The Work That Really Matters (Spoiler: It’s Not Your Job Title):
Inspired by James Van Der Beek’s death, a Transitioning Doula reflects on connection, legacy, and loving well while we’re still here.
When Our Peers Start Dying: What James Van Der Beek’s Passing Stirred Up
Hey Friends,
Every so often, a piece of news stops us in our tracks. This week, it was the death of actor James Van Der Beek at age 48. Whether you spent your adolescence watching Dawson’s Creek or couldn’t pick him out of a lineup, the tributes pouring out were impossible to ignore.
And here’s what struck me — and what I’ve been sitting with:
People weren’t talking about his résumé.
They were talking about how he made them feel.
His kindness.
His presence.
His ability to make others feel seen, understood, important.
The inside jokes and the warmth he carried into a room.
His tenderness as a dad, his devotion as a partner.
His presence.
His ability to make others feel seen, understood, important.
The inside jokes and the warmth he carried into a room.
His tenderness as a dad, his devotion as a partner.
All of it added up to a portrait of someone deeply loved, not because of what he achieved, but because of how he connected.
As a Transitioning Doula, I see this pattern every single time. Families don’t reminisce about quarterly reviews or the number of emails their person answered. (If they do, we need to talk.)
Instead, they remember:
- The last conversation they shared
- The running jokes that still live in the family vocabulary
- The quiet moments of presence
- How someone showed up during the small, unremarkable Tuesdays
Those are the things that imprint.
And maybe that’s why Van Der Beek’s passing feels so heavy for so many. It’s a reminder that yes — people our age are dying. And none of us, no matter our kale smoothies or the number of steps we hit on our watches, get a guaranteed timeline.
It raises the question I so often hold with clients and families:
How do you want to be remembered?
Not in a pressure-filled “craft your legacy!” kind of way. More like…
When all is said and done, what traces of yourself do you hope linger in the hearts of the people you love?
When all is said and done, what traces of yourself do you hope linger in the hearts of the people you love?
This past weekend — in one of those gentle universal nudges — I spent time with a high school friend of almost 30 years. Sledding with his kids, baking cookies, trading stories that have aged only slightly better than we have. It felt like life handing me a live example of the thing I was already thinking about.
Connection is the real work.
It always has been.
It always has been.
No neat bow at the end, just what I’m reflecting on this week:
that when our time comes — whether we’re 28, 48, or 98 — the impact we leave behind is built almost entirely out of the small moments we sometimes forget to notice.
that when our time comes — whether we’re 28, 48, or 98 — the impact we leave behind is built almost entirely out of the small moments we sometimes forget to notice.
In this together,
Your Transitioning Doula
Your Transitioning Doula
Marc D Malamud
Transitioning Doula
