Hands with Heart, LLC

04/04/2026

Bill was not just a client, he was our friend. Bill was a client with us at Hands with Heart for more than a decade... and in all honesty he was more like family. We will all deeply miss this kind hearted teacher. I will forever cherish all of our conversations, & will never forget all you have taught us about growing orchids - macrame - gardening & handmade Christmas ornaments to name just a few... until we meet again my friend💔. May you truly rest in Peace.

View William "Bill" Seis's obituary, contribute to their memorial, see their funeral service details, and more.

08/03/2026

It has come to my attention that there are individuals in our community who are claiming to have been and/or are currently employed by us at Hands with Heart who ARE NOT currently, & have never been a part of our team!

I will gladly answer any verification calls with regards tp our current & former employees! Please do not hesitate to verify current/ prior employment claims!

608-618-1657

27/02/2026

Please... Speak their name - share your memories & make sure the world never forgets that your loved one LIVED!

We have been taught, in subtle and not-so-subtle ways, that once someone dies, we stop talking about them. We lower our voices. We change the subject. We carry them quietly.

But what if the opposite is true?

If we don’t say their name, if we don’t tell their story, then their story stops being told. I believe that it is up to us to keep it alive.

I was sitting with my granddaughter once, telling her a story about my mom. She looked at me and said, “You have a mom?”

That question stayed with me.

Of course I have a mom. I have a dad, I have grandparents and many people woven all through my life who shaped me, loved me, taught me, and left me with so many memories. Just because my grandchildren never met them does not mean they did not exist.

I am who I am because of them and I want my grandchildren to know them.

The story does not end when a life ends.

They may have died, but their names deserve to be spoken. Their stories deserve to be remembered. Their memories rest with us, and we become their storytellers.

So say their name.
Tell their story.
Keep them woven into the fabric of your family.

Because love does not disappear.
It echoes.

xo
Gabby
www.thehospiceheart.net

29/12/2025

This is so important to understand...

27/11/2025

To our team & all of our clients!

17/11/2025

So worth reading

We all wish for a “beautiful” death, for ourselves and for the people we love. And thankfully, many times, it happens, or at least it comes close. I feel fortunate to have witnessed countless deaths that were peaceful, quiet, and even beautiful. But I have also been present for the ones that weren’t, the ones filled with struggle, distress, and sounds that echo in your mind long after the room has fallen silent.

Death and the dying process are as individual as fingerprints. No two are the same, and I think we need to talk about that more honestly. Describing death as beautiful or peaceful can unintentionally mislead or isolate those whose experiences looked very different.

As hospice clinicians, we often explain that certain changes such as skin color, breathing patterns, movements, sounds, even moments of restlessness, can be a normal part of dying. But let’s be honest: while these things may be clinically normal, they are not emotionally normal for the people witnessing them. There is nothing “usual” about watching someone you love leave this world.

I do my best to ease the struggle for both the dying and those keeping vigil beside them. Still, I am not always successful. I have had to learn that it isn’t because I have failed, it’s because sometimes, the body follows its own path, and what it goes through is beyond our control, no matter how gently we try to guide it.

Some deaths are hard to witness. I have learned to be more mindful of that, the quiet trauma that can live inside those memories. Watching someone you love suffer creates a different kind of pain, one that needs acknowledgment and tenderness long after last breaths.

I have often wondered what makes a death “beautiful.” Perhaps it’s when someone has lived a full life and is ready, or when they pass without struggle, surrounded by love. Maybe it’s when the suffering has finally ended, and peace, however brief, fills the room.

There are many interpretations. I once read that “a beautiful death is a death that allows for a celebration of a life well-lived and a sense of peace.” I think that’s true, but I have also learned that beauty in death isn’t always found in how it looks. Sometimes it’s in the love that fills the room, in the hands held tightly together, in the whispered goodbyes, or in the sheer courage it takes to stay present when things are hard to watch.

As someone who walks alongside the dying, I have come to accept that it’s not my place to decide whether a death was beautiful or not. That belongs to those who had to say goodbye. My role is to prepare them for whatever may come, to hold space for both possibilities. And if the end is peaceful, that is a blessing. If it isn’t, at least they were not unprepared, and perhaps it will feel a little less shocking.

Death is my teacher, and I am an attentive listener.

xo
Gabby

You can find this blog here:
https://www.thehospiceheart.net/post/when-it-isn-t-a-beautiful-death

12/11/2025

This is amazing

18/10/2025

To have loved deeply, is to grieve deeply...

The Second Wave

It’s the one you never see coming.
The one that shows up years later,
long after people stop checking in.

You think you’ve done the work.
You’ve cried, survived, rebuilt.
You’ve convinced yourself you’re finding your footing again.
Then one random day, grief kicks the door back open.

It hits like it did in the beginning—
sharp, cruel, and familiar.
You don’t ease into it. You drown in it.
That same ache in your chest, that same lump in your throat.
You remember the exact sound of that day,
the way the air felt when your world split.
It all floods back like no time has passed at all.

And the people around you—they don’t see it.
They think you’ve moved on.
They think time has done its job.
But time doesn’t heal this kind of wound.
It just teaches you how to look functional while you bleed.

The second wave makes you realize how deep it still runs.
How love this real doesn’t expire just because life keeps going.
It reminds you that no matter how strong you’ve been,
grief still knows your name.

And when it hits, all you can do is stop fighting it.
Let it come.
Let it wreck you for a while.
Because it’s proof they still exist somewhere inside you.

You’ll stand up again—
you always do—
but for a moment,
you’re back there.
And that’s what the second wave really is—
not starting over,
just remembering how much it still hurts to love someone who’s gone.

04/10/2025