Brenda’s end of life care

04/18/2026

After you lose someone,
you’re not just grieving them—
you’re forced to unlearn everything you ever knew with them in it.

The routines.
The habits.
The quiet comforts you didn’t even realize you’d built around their existence.

You have to unlearn the instinct to reach for your phone—
to tell them the news,
to share something funny,
to hear the only voice that made things feel okay.

You have to unlearn looking for them in the room.
You have to unlearn the way your eyes search for their car in the driveway,
or your heart still waits for them to walk through the door.

You have to unlearn the sound of their footsteps,
the way the house felt when they were home.

You have to unlearn how the holidays used to feel—
like something to look forward to,
instead of something you brace yourself to get through.

You have to unlearn a version of yourself
that only existed when they were here.

And in the middle of all that unlearning,
you’re trying to learn how to keep going.
How to function.
How to smile.
How to show up for a life that no longer looks like yours.

This is what grief really does.
It rewrites the way you live.
Without permission.
Without warning.

And somehow,
you’re left to figure it out—
quietly, painfully,
piece by piece.

Written by: Aimee Suyko - In Their footsteps

Welcome to In Their Footsteps. As someone who walked beside her mother through cancer until her death and lost her father after a life-changing fall, I created this space for comfort and connection—helping others live a full life alongside grief. ❤️

04/18/2026

The first thing to do when someone dies is: nothing.

I know that might feel strange. Your mind may tell you to do something, call someone, or fix something. That desire comes from love, but it also comes from modern Western culture not teaching us how to simply be with death.

If you’ve ever been at the bedside of a dying person, you’ll know that there’s a grace to being with someone you love as they make their transition out of this world. It’s a precious time.

What that moment calls for is presence, quiet, and time to let the truth of it land, for you and for them.

Think of it this way, they are a newborn in the next world. Hold that space with that kind of energy. Put the kettle on, sit with their body, and let yourself adjust to the reality that they are gone.

04/04/2026

Grief is like being in a tunnel.

A long, dark, suffocating tunnel with no end in sight.

You’re stuck in it. Unable to see where you’re going or how far you have left.

And everyone keeps telling you there’s a light at the end. That if you just keep moving, you’ll eventually get there. That one day you’ll come out the other side, and everything will be okay.

But you can’t see it.

The tunnel is too narrow. Too suffocating. It presses in on you from all sides, and you can barely breathe.

Some days you try to move forward. You take a few steps. You tell yourself that maybe, just maybe, you’re getting closer to something better.

But then the grief hits harder. And you stop. And you sit down because you can’t keep going.

And the tunnel feels endless.

People on the outside don’t understand. They can’t see where you are. They just see you. And they wonder why you’re not moving faster. Why you’re not “better” yet. Why you’re still stuck.

But they’re not in here. They don’t know what it’s like. They don’t feel the walls closing in.

And the light at the end? The one everyone keeps promising is there?

You can’t see it. Not yet.

All you can do is keep moving. Not because you see the light. But because staying still feels worse.

So, you walk through the tunnel. One step at a time. One breath at a time.

Hoping that one day—maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday—

You’ll see it.

Just a small glimmer. At the very end. So far away you can barely make it out.

But it’s there.

And maybe that will be enough to keep you going.

Written by: Aimee Suyko - In Their Footsteps

01/31/2026

The underutilized benefit of Hospice.

Will this bad habit of not accessing this benefit ever change? Who’s responsibility is it to refer? The providers or the patient?

The amount of humans who pass away without hospice is heartbreaking. We are not talking about a sudden death or accidental deaths. We are referring to individuals that are no longer curable and aggressive measures are now just a “bandaid”. We hear of individuals who spend their last year or months in and out of the hospital, with no improvement and lacking comfort and quality. We hear of people who are hospitalized for weeks with decline and with no improvement, but hospice isn’t offered. We hear of patients in nursing homes and assisted livings, experiencing the “silent transition”, with no additional care like hospice. We have witness adult children and elderly spouses, as caregivers at home, with no additional support. We watch home health being ordered on repeat for an option, but many of the individuals do not have rehab potential. We watch hired homecare not providing clinial care, so individuals can’t be managed at home and just end up in the hospital.

We hear and witness all of the above daily because we work in hospice. For years, We have been shouting at the top of our lungs that hospice is a HUGE benefit that HELPS, and doesn’t cost a thing. Hospice comes to you, wherever “home” is and almost ALL insurances pays for it 100%. That’s it! No strings attached. If you don’t like it, you can always discontinue the services. There are zero penalties in discontinuing the care.

Want to know the providers that are in your area? Google Medicare.gov.
✳️Go to the menu and click on “providers and services”
✳️then click on “find care providers”
✳️next click “provider type” and “hospice care”.
✳️Put in your zip code and your choices will be listed.

01/17/2026

Unless they are you, no one should ever tell YOU how to grieve!!

There is no 'right' way to grieve. In fact, there are 7.8 billion ways to grieve. So the next time you're wondering if you're "doing it right," be assured that you're grieving in the way that makes the most sense for you.

11/15/2025

09/11/2025

The Gray Space of Grief

It’s not the moment they died.
It’s not the funeral.
It’s not the “I’m so sorry” texts or the casseroles dropped at your door.

It’s everything after that.

It’s the part no one warns you about—the gray space of grief.
Where the world keeps moving, but you’re suspended.
Not fully in the past. Not fully in the future.
Just… here. In between.

Where you forget what joy used to feel like.
Where smiles feel foreign and guilt creeps in if you catch yourself laughing.
Where people assume you’re “doing better” because you showed up to work or answered a text.

But inside?
You’re lost.
Not broken exactly. Just… altered.
Like a radio slightly out of tune.
Like a photo that won’t come into focus.

The gray space is quiet.
But not peaceful.
It’s the space where grief settles when the world stops watching.

And if you’re in it—
You’re not alone.
You’re not doing it wrong.
You’re surviving the part no one talks about.

And one day, color might return.
But for now, it’s okay to sit in the gray.