This is the hard part of my work.

I originally shared this reflection on social media, where it can reach far…but where posts tend to disappear into the scroll. It’s here now because this share needs room to breathe, to get rooted. - - -

It’s been said to me countless times in my years of working in end-of-life care: "Your job must be so hard." I’ve heard it over and over again, and still, it catches me off guard, because helping people who are dying, and those caring for them, isn’t hard. It’s deeply rewarding. It’s an honor.

But do you want to know what is hard?

What’s hard is witnessing someone vulnerably share their experience of caring for a dying loved one, how they were let down by the medical system, how support was promised but never came, only to be met not with curiosity or care, but with dismissive responses like, “Oh, that’s too bad. My experience with hospice was good.” And on and on...

It immediately shuts the disenfranchised caregiver down and invalidates their reality. And in all my years of doing this work, that invalidation almost always comes from white people over the age of 50. I’ve seen it again and again, and I’m asking…please, stop.

It is painful to witness, and I can only imagine the isolating grief of the caregiver who already felt abandoned. It's especially gutting when these remarks are directed at a person of color, someone who knows firsthand the racial disparities embedded in our healthcare system, and who is then told, in so many words, that their lived experience is incorrect.

What’s also hard is bearing witness to nurses; skilled, intuitive, compassionate people, who have been brutalized by the very systems they serve, now buckling under the weight of chronic overwork, moral injury, and a total lack of recognition for their humanity. Not burnout. Not fatigue. Injury.

We owe them more than praise.
We owe them an apology.

I'm over it. I'm done with the spiritual bypassing, the centering of personal comfort over collective truth. If you see this behavior, say something. It’s a cultural norm that needs to shift immediately.

This is the hard part of my work. I’ll keep naming it, because silence is complicity, and death workers don’t get into this work to be complicit.

White friends, why do we continue to protect end-of-life care systems that have shown us, time and again, they cannot hold all of us with equal care? Why do we rush to defend institutions, rather than pause to listen to the people who were harmed by them?

I’m not seeking blame. I’m asking for curiosity, for courage, for a willingness to learn, to do better.