Finding Meaning at the End of Life
(Gary Wederspahn, co-editor of the Good Death Society Blog, recently interviewed Robert A. Neimeyer, PhD. Dr. Neimeyer is Professor Emeritus of the Department of Psychology, University of Memphis. He also directs the Portland Institute for Loss and Transition and has published 35 books, including New Techniques of Grief Therapy: Bereavement and Beyond and The Handbook of Grief Therapies, and is editor of the journal Death Studies. The author of over 600 articles and book chapters, his focus is on grieving as a meaning-making process. Neimeyer served as president of the Association for Death Education and Counseling (ADEC) and chair of the International Work Group for Death, Dying, & Bereavement.)
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Your work on meaning at the end of life reminds me of Viktor Frankl’s quote: “Challenging the meaning of life is the truest expression of the state of being human.” Is your seminar on “A Quest for Meaning in Terminal Illness” informed by his school of psychotherapy?
Yes, certainly. Frankl’s own experience in Nazi concentration camps powerfully confronted him with countless violations of the assumptive world he had previously known, with its relative predictability, security, control, and at least some sense of justice and a hoped-for future. His life as a physician in a pre-war context just “made sense” implicitly, in the day-to-day way that most of our lives do, most of the time. But there are times – like the rise of Nazi authoritarianism and ethnic hatred, the outbreak of WWII, or the diagnosis of life-threatening illness in ourselves or in someone we love – that shatter the mundane stories of our lives, challenging our personal, social, and sometimes existential realities. It is at those times that we struggle to reaffirm or reconstruct a world of meaning as we are flooded by the anxiety, despair, or grief that such events bring to our families and ourselves. Our work as professionals accompanying people at the end of life is to help them navigate these unwelcome challenges in a way that conserves and restores their humanity.
I see the parallels. But what are the issues and challenges of making sense of the end of life specifically?
Well, in a sense, the wording of your question suggests its own answer: It’s the challenge of making sense of a life that is ending. For practical existentialists like Frankl and myself, the task is really a multifaceted one. How do we come to terms with the significance of the life we have lived, in all of its possible imperfection and incompleteness? How do we understand the role of suffering in human life, including our own? What lessons of enduring value did our life carry, for ourselves or relevant others? What could we do now to affirm sources of meaning in our being and doing, as life grows short? How might we reaffirm continuing bonds between the dying and the living, bonds that endure beyond the life of the patient? And what implications do these questions have for our identities as individuals and families as we seek resilience in this quest? These are big questions that are lived rather than asked, and they are the sorts of fundamental concerns that we try to help people address in the context of meaning-focused support at the end of life and in grief therapy.
These are heavy issues for a dying person to confront. What tips and recommendations can you offer in how best to accompany them?
Good question, and one whose answers will vary depending on the questions and concerns arising in each specific case. But in general, it is important to recognize that accompanying a patient and family begins with who we are and then extends to what we do. That is, it is primarily about how we show up, ideally in non-anxious presence, bringing a respectful, compassionate stance to their circumstance that is uncluttered with treatment plans or specific objectives. From this centered, mindful, emotionally regulated and responsive stance, we are able to read the patient or family member’s signals – verbal, nonverbal and co-verbal – about what they need in a given moment. Perhaps it is simply to be heard and symbolically “held” in a troubling time. Perhaps it is to acknowledge a feared reality, to express a concern about another family member, to take in the implications of a recent diagnosis or prognosis, or to wrestle with a looming decision about treatment. Joining the client in finding words in the emotional press of such moments in a way that validates their concerns, honestly seeks a way forward and grants them a measure of dignity and humanity that is fundamental, whatever specific interventions or strategies we might then offer.
Just one more question: After all your research and work on this topic, how do you make sense of your own mortality?
I see you’ve saved the biggest question for last! I suppose that the truest answer is: One day at a time, leaning hopefully into an uncertain future. Mostly I do that in practical terms, asking myself: What is important to do today? What do those who matter most to me require of me at this time? What current relationships deserve nurturance? What shared or personal plans of significance have action steps that can be taken now? If I can pause and let the pool of my consciousness grow still and clear rather than agitated and turbid, what becomes clearer at depth? Acting with creative engagement and appreciative reflection on what emerges embraces meaning in the moment, and the sum of such moments, for me, constitutes my meaning in life. As with most fraught and limited human beings, living this stance in the midst of life losses and challenges is something I do inconsistently, and, in this sense. is always a work in progress.
Marc D Malamud
Transitioning Doula
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It Takes a Village
Rethinking Death Care as Community Care
Reprint from Substack
Oct 16, 2025
We say it takes a village to raise a child.
But it also takes a village to help someone die well.
And another to carry the living after loss.
Yet somewhere along the way, we stopped seeing death as a community responsibility.
We outsourced it.
We built systems and professionals to handle it for us.
We took something once shared and sacred and turned it into a service you call when something goes wrong.
It’s time to take it back.
Because death was never meant to belong to one profession.
It was meant to belong to all of us.
Photo by Tim Marshall on Unsplash
Death Education: Where the Village Begins
Most people were never taught what happens when someone dies.
Not what the body does.
Not what paperwork is needed.
Not who to call.
Instead, we learned to look away. To change the subject. To protect others from sadness. But avoidance doesn’t protect us; it isolates us. It leaves us unprepared when loss comes. And it will come.
Death education isn’t about morbidity. It’s about literacy.
When we talk about death early and often, we normalize it. We empower people to plan. We replace fear with understanding.
I’ve seen the difference.
In classrooms where students ask questions with curiosity, not horror.
In bars where “Death Over Drafts” events turn into honest, healing conversations.
In families who, after learning the basics, approach death as something they can meet with grace, not confusion.
Education is where community care starts.
Because when people understand death, they don’t run from it; they show up for each other.
When the Village Shows Up
When someone is dying, the best care happens when everyone works together.
Hospice nurses ease pain and offer comfort.
Funeral directors help plan the goodbye.
End-of-life doulas hold space for the emotional work of dying.
Clergy, therapists, neighbors, friends, all have a role to play.
Each brings a different kind of medicine.
But right now, these worlds are often separate.
Hospice ends where the funeral begins.
The funeral ends where grief support should start.
And families fall through the cracks between systems that were never meant to be separate.
We can do better.
We can build bridges instead of silos.
We can treat deathcare as a continuum, not a collection of disconnected services.
Imagine this instead:
A hospice nurse calls a trusted funeral partner before death occurs to prepare the family for what comes next.
A funeral director connects that family with a grief counselor in their own community.
An end-of-life doula collaborates with both, ensuring continuity of care.
Each one hands the family forward gently, never dropping them in the space between.
That’s holistic deathcare.
That’s what it means to have a village that shows up, not only for the dying, but for the living who remain.
After Loss: Carrying Each Other Forward
The funeral is not the end. It’s the beginning of a new kind of living.
After the service ends and the flowers fade, people are left with a quiet no one prepares them for.
The silence of a house that holds too many memories.
The pile of mail that keeps coming.
The tasks no one wants to do: sorting clothes, returning medical equipment, changing account names.
Grief lives in those ordinary moments.
Professionals can support those who grieve, but it’s the community that carries them through it.
A check-in text two weeks later matters.
A meal left on a porch matters.
An invitation to coffee months after everyone else has moved on matters.
We need more of that.
Grief companions and support groups are essential, yes, but so are coworkers who understand, neighbors who remember, and friends who don’t say “let me know if you need anything,” but instead say, “I’m coming by.”
Community care after loss doesn’t require training. It requires willingness.
To sit in discomfort. To show up imperfectly. To remember that grief isn’t a problem to solve, it’s a process to witness.
The Missing Piece: Connection
The future of deathcare isn’t about more technology or efficiency. It’s about connection.
Connection between professionals.
Connection between the living and the dying.
Connection between people and the land they’ll return to.
We need spaces where hospice, funeral, and grief professionals talk to each other. Where doulas, cemeterians, celebrants, and therapists share resources instead of competing. Where families know where to turn because every door leads to someone ready to help.
This is already happening, in small ways, in small towns, in community-led projects, in forests, in living rooms.
Every time someone chooses to learn about death before they need to, every time professionals collaborate, every time a community rallies around someone grieving, another piece of the village returns.
Building the Village Again
So how do we rebuild it?
We start by talking.
By educating.
By remembering that this work belongs to everyone.
We host community events where death isn’t taboo.
We teach the language of dying and grief to kids, so they grow up unafraid.
We create partnerships between hospice and funeral homes, doulas and cemeteries, grief groups and local businesses.
We make space in our neighborhoods for conversations about how we want to live, and how we want to die.
We make death a part of life again.
Because Here’s the Truth
No one should die alone.
No one should grieve alone.
And no one should carry the sacred work of care alone, either.
It takes a village to live well.
It takes a village to die well.
It takes a village to remember well.
And if we can remember that, maybe we’ll start to see death not as something to avoid, but as something we walk through, together.
Marc D Malamud
Transitioning Doula
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Help Us Keep the Light On at TransitioningDoula.com 💜
Hi friends,
I’m reaching out with a full heart and a humble ask.
Transitioning Doula, LLC started as a quiet dream—a space where people could find comfort, guidance, and gentle support during one of life’s most tender transitions. Today, it’s grown into a community of care, and I’m so grateful you’re here.
As a 501(c)(3) nonprofit, we rely on the kindness of donors to keep our services accessible to everyone who needs them. Whether it’s helping someone navigate grief, offering comfort to those nearing the end of life, or simply being a steady presence when things feel uncertain—we’re here, and we want to keep showing up.
What Your Support Makes Possible:
- Free grief counseling courses for families
- End-of-life comfort care for those without close loved ones
- Resources and education for caregivers and communities
- A growing online hub of compassion and connection
How You Can Help:
- Donate (even a few dollars makes a big difference!)
- Share our story with your circle
- Sponsor a care session in honor of someone you love
We’re Officially Registered!
Transitioning Doula, LLC is proud to be a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization, which means your donations are tax-deductible as allowed by law.
You can view our IRS determination letter https://apps.irs.gov/pub/epostcard/dl/FinalLetter_93-4613115_TRANSITIONINGDOULAANJNONPROFITCORPORATION_03072024_00.pdf for full transparency.
Thank you for believing in this mission. Thank you for being part of it.
With warmth and gratitude,
💜 
Marc D Malamud
Founder, TransitioningDoula.com
What this course IS
This class is a small, online, interactive gathering of adults working through a past or anticipated grief.
We will guide you through exercises to see your circumstances in a new light, honoring you and your experiences.
Register for day one and additional days are included.
Event Information
Event Date 10-08-2025 8:00 pm
Event End Date 10-08-2025 9:30 pm
Cut Off Date 10-08-2025 5:00 pm
Capacity 22
Registered 0
Available Place 22
Individual Price $500.00
Location https://zoom.us/meeting/register/9wI3wGoJS1uEnH2DQww-vw
https://www.transitioningdoula.com/index.php/death-cafe/event-list/grief/navigating-grief?tmpl=component&print=1
Warmly,
Marc D Malamud
Transitioning Doula
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When the Caregivers Need Care Too
Mental Illness Awareness Week and the Funeral Profession
In funeral service, we are known for being steady in the storm. Families see us as calm anchors, guiding them through the unimaginable. But what happens when the people who carry everyone else’s grief are also carrying anxiety, depression, PTSD, or other mental illnesses?
The truth is, mental illness doesn’t skip over funeral professionals. If anything, the demands of our work, long hours, exposure to trauma, isolation from peers, and constant emotional labor make us more vulnerable.
Silence in a Culture of Strength
In our profession, there is an unspoken rule: be strong for the family. Many of us extend that rule into our personal lives as well. We minimize our struggles, fearing stigma or judgment. We tell ourselves that burnout is “just part of the job” or that therapy is for someone else.
But mental illness is not weakness. It’s human. And silence is not strength.
Trauma-Related Grief and Hidden Wounds
Without acknowledgment, without access to treatment, mental illness can quietly erode the very professionals families rely on most.
Why Access and Support Matter
Employers and associations can lead by:
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Offering mental health coverage that includes trauma-informed therapy
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Normalizing the use of EAP programs, counseling stipends, and peer groups
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Building training and conversations that reduce stigma and increase awareness
Resources for Funeral Professionals
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NFDA’s Work/Life Resource Center
Offers confidential counseling, legal and financial advice, and wellness resources for funeral professionals. -
Funeral Professionals Peer Support (FPPS)
A peer-led community offering virtual and in-person support groups designed specifically for those in funeral service. -
The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP)
Education, advocacy, and local chapters offering community support and training around suicide prevention. -
National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI)
Helpline, peer groups, and education for anyone navigating mental illness—for yourself or loved ones. -
Crisis Resources
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988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline (U.S.) – Call or text 988 anytime.
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Crisis Text Line – Text HOME to 741741 for 24/7 support.
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Grief and Trauma-Specific Therapists
Search directories like Psychology Today and filter for trauma, grief, or first-responder experience.
These aren’t just “nice to have” resources. They are lifelines for those who quietly carry the grief of others while neglecting their own.
A Profession That Heals Its Own
When we make it safe to say “I’m not okay,” we don’t just protect funeral professionals. We protect the families we serve because every family deserves a caregiver who is whole, present, and supported.
Marc D Malamud
Transitioning Doula