The Quiet Work of Letting Go

Reflections & Growth — by Lady Flava

I once thought about doing hospice work full-time.  I’ve done it before — with my parents, and later with a few clients in Vegas — and it always felt natural to me.  Hospice isn’t about dying; it’s about being present while someone finishes living.

One of my clients was a Jewish woman whose son was a big producer in Vegas.  Sometimes we’d FaceTime him on my phone.  She could be rough — cursing, yelling, telling me not to touch a thing or to sit in the corner.  But when I’d start reading, any book, any page, her voice would quiet.  At the end of each visit she’d say she didn’t want me to come back, and every time I’d ask, “Do you really mean that?”  She’d pause, soften, and tell me yes — she wanted me to return.

Another client slept most of the day.  His wife asked me to sit with him and their dog so she could run errands or just breathe for a while.  My job was simply to keep the space gentle.  Those afternoons were quiet — just the rhythm of his breathing, the dog’s sighs, and the sound of life still happening.

Those moments taught me that comfort isn’t always about talking or doing.  Sometimes it’s about holding space, about letting another person’s spirit know they aren’t alone, even when words are gone.

Hospice work showed me something sacred:

love doesn’t always look like fixing — sometimes it looks like staying.

— Simply Flava 🌻