Brenda’s end of life care

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.

02/24/2025

01/11/2025

Save yourself

Make room for your grief. 🤍

01/09/2025

For many, January is a hard, cold month…

When everyone is setting new goals, laying down righteous ground rules and striving to become a better version of themselves, some of us are fighting to find our feet each day...

You see, December is a month of giving, and some of us, come January, are completely and utterly spent.

A month of remembering everyone, and remembering absolutely everything.

A month of including everyone and of reaching out to each and every person we have ever known.

A month of reaching breaking point every day trying to have fun, to be the ultimate hostess, to be the perfect guest.

A month of stretching ourselves financially, emotionally and of letting our boundaries be breached by many... in the spirit of the season.

And then January hits and bam... before we can even begin the arduous task of clearing away the festivities, we are expected to jump on the ‘new year, new you’ bandwagon and transform ourselves entirely.

For some of us this is just too much.

January is the darkest and most depressing month of the year and for many sensitive souls, the barrage of ‘advice’ on how we ‘should’ be living, is just too much.

So perhaps this is a safe place to say that maybe it’s okay to take a week or two to recover and to just be kind to ourselves before demanding better.

And for those of us who really do fall low in the darkest month of the year. For those of us who have given too much and to whom the future looks bleak - perhaps this is the right place to say - you are absolutely fine the way you are. Just stay.

Take some time to breathe.

Take some time to not think about anything much at all except breathing in and breathing out.

Take some time to build back up, not tear your yourself down.

For many, this month is a mountain that looks unclimbable.

Be kind, my friends. Always.

Donna Ashworth

Art by

01/07/2025

My hope always for my dying patients

I hope death feels like coming home after a long day, where the weight of the world melts away as you step through the door. I hope it feels like the soft embrace of twilight, the quiet rustle of leaves outside your window, and the gentle hum of familiarity that tells you everything is finally at peace.

I hope it feels like lying in your favorite spot, wrapped in a blanket that carries the scent of love and safety. Like a hand brushing your hair away from your face, a voice whispering, “Rest now, you’ve done enough.” I hope it’s the quiet joy of knowing you’re surrounded by love, the soft glow of memories lighting your way, and the deep serenity of being exactly where you belong.

I hope it feels like a warm hug that lingers, the kind that makes you feel held, not just physically, but in the depths of your soul. I hope it’s like the rhythm of your favorite song, the one that plays in the background of the moments that matter most.

I hope it feels like whispers of love from every corner of the universe, guiding you gently to a place where pain no longer exists and where every piece of you is finally whole. I hope it’s the sweetest exhale, a release into something vast and endless, where you are no longer bound but beautifully free.

I hope it feels like going home—not just to a place, but to yourself.
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09/20/2024