![]() From what I could tell, he hadn't been on very good terms with God. ![]() Wherever he was, I hoped Guillermo had been able to leave his bitterness behind. Where, I didn't know-I was mostly agnostic when it came to spiritual matters, which helped me make room for my clients' chosen faiths. A person was here on earth and now they were gone. I liked to feel the icy breeze nibbling at my cheeks as I walked, to watch the cloud materialize then vanish with each of my breaths-confirmations that I was still here, still living.įor someone so accustomed to witnessing death, I always felt a little adrift afterward. I could've taken the bus, but it always felt disrespectful to slot right back into routine life when someone had just lost theirs. Snowflakes whirled erratically as I began my walk home from Guillermo's cramped studio apartment in Chinatown. It's my job to make their final moments a little less lonesome.Ī social worker had referred me to Guillermo a month ago. There may be almost nine million people living here, but New York is a city of lonely people full of regrets. In fact, if it weren't for me, at least half of those ninety-seven people would've died alone. And if there were loved ones there, I'd let them know that now was the moment to say their goodbyes. That's how I knew someone was ready to go. ![]() I'd become attuned to that smell in my years as a death doula. It's hard to describe, but it's like that imperceptible shift between summer and fall when somehow the air is different but you don't know why. I'm talking about that other scent, the distinct smell when death is imminent. I don't mean the odor of a body decomposing-I never really had to deal with that, since I only ever sat with the dying as they hovered on the threshold between this world and the next. ![]() Amid the exhaust fumes and pungent blend of dried fish and tamarind, the scent of death still lingered in my nostrils. ![]()
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