What is vigil planning?

As a Death Doula I talk about vigil plans often, so what are they? Let’s talk.

A vigil plan is simply your wishes for what the space around you feels like when you’re dying. They can be as simple or detailed as you want. They can (and should) change over time as you grow, learn and evolve. They can-and most definitely should-be talked about, not just with loved ones but with everyone. Hell, I talk about mine with strangers at the grocery store.

When I help plan your vigil I look to touch all the senses, even if you are not responsive.

I want to know your favorite smells, so that we can fill the area with scents that are comforting and familiar to you.

What do you want to see-even when your eyes are closed? You’ll know, trust me.

What sounds bring your comfort? Or do you prefer silence?

What do you want to feel? Have a favorite blanket that is soft? Favorite comfy t-shirts or socks? I want to know about it.

And I even ask about taste, even if you are no longer eating.

What is the point of all of this? You’re dying anyway right?

Because dying does not erase your personhood.

Because even as the body is letting go, comfort is not wasted on the dying. Your sense of security still matters.

Because all of these familiarities can soften your transition and let you know you are not alone. And let you know you are heard.

Because even as you are dying your nervous system still receives familiarity, love and gentleness.

Because your death and how you die are part of your story. And that story is carried on by loved ones. Give them an amazing transition story to take forward.

Here’s a look at what mine is today.

I hope when I die it’s just after dusk, on a clear night where the first stars are beginning to shine as the colors fade from the sky. I hope the late-summer breeze is moving gently through an open window, carrying the smell of evening air.

I would like to be surrounded by my children, if they wish to be there, and by my closest friends who can support them. Let conversation be gentle and kind — NO politics during my transition.

When those around me remember something ridiculous we did together, laugh, and share it with each other and with my amazing children and granddaughter. Let the laughter roll as freely as the tears; feel what you need to feel and don’t judge the emotions as they come. Don’t apologize to each other for crying, and don’t quickly hand each other tissues.

I’d love music in the background, something soft enough that it holds the space without taking it over. Even if I am not able to participate, I want those around me to have conversations. About anything. I will feel the connection just hearing your voices.

Cover my feet gently with a blanket, but don’t tuck them in. Place my bed so it faces a window; I want to feel the world outside even if my eyes are closed. Open the windows to let in fresh air. Scents I love are cinnamon, rose, lime, lilac, and honeysuckle — if any of these can fill the area I am in without being overwhelming to those supporting me, I would love that.

If I seem uncomfortable or agitated, talk to me about walking in the woods, or the views from atop a mountain. Guide me with your words. Describe the colors, the smells, the trees, and the air. Tell me about the temperature, and what the ground feels like under my feet. Tell me how far you can see, tell me about the blues in the sky, and how the clouds are moving by and welcoming for me.

Please use gentle touch only. You may rub my forehead — my favorite spot is the soft place between the eyes. Please avoid stroking my face otherwise.. Wrap me in a blanket soft enough to comfort a sleeping newborn, and when it’s time let me go wearing a buttery soft caftan for comfort.

If I speak of seeing people who you can’t see, know that this is normal. Do not be frightened because this is a celebration, a sign of the joy and reunions that wait for me. Encourage me and tell me all of the loved ones who are waiting to meet me.

When my last exhale is not followed by a new breath, do not rush to have my body taken away. Stay with me until everyone who wants to say goodbye has done so.

This is my vigil plan — written with love. I trust the people around me to move with the energy, and if something feels different, follow your hearts. Light snacks will be nearby, because I know we don’t always feel like eating full meals at this time. Please keep water and tea close so that everyone can stay nourished. No one is expected to sit vigil the entire time. The dying process is laborious— please come and go as you need.