A line from An Affair to Remember helped shape how I see life, memory, and what it means to truly live. As a Death Doula, I help people create a space—wherever they are—to hold their stories. But this isn’t just about the end. It’s about all of us, right now. How are we living? What will we have to look back on? Let’s live with intention—so when the time comes to sit and remember, we have a life worth holding onto.
As a death doula, I help people build that place no matter where they are. It's about crafting a space where their memories can land gently right. One day, we will need that place. And we won't want it to feel empty.
So what are you filling your home with? What stories will you hold close when it's time to sit and remember? Because that's the goal, isn't it? To live a life in such a way that when we finally sit down to look back, we'll know that we really lived.
So. So I just got home, right? And I've been traveling for the last three months, and I've been ready to come back home because I. I love my place. I love my place. I'm at. I'm on the top of a mountain in the middle of the woods and, like, the Chattahoochee National Forest, right? And I've been here for a couple of years, but it's so peaceful. It's so peaceful. But it reminds me of this scene from, like, one of my favorite movies. And, you know, there's this scene, right, in An Affair to Remember, right, that has.
It, like, stayed with me since the first time I watched it. So I was young. I was probably too young to really understand about love and loss. But this one moment, this one line felt like a quiet whisper from the future or something, right? Where it was telling me something that I would probably only grasp many years later, right? It happens when Nikki Ferrante takes Terry McKay to visit his grandmother. And they're in this beautiful old home that's warm, full of history. It's full of a time well lived.
And Terry, like, with this soft, dreamy look in her eyes like she has the entire movie, tells the grandmother, your house is so charming. I could stay here forever. And the grandmother, who's, like, wise and knowing, she tells her, you're too young for that. This is a good place to sit and remember, but you still have to create your memories. So that. That right there is the line that hit me. Because isn't that the whole point? To live fully, to fill the years with something worth remembering? And when the time comes, when it truly comes and not a minute before, to have a place to sit and recall everything.
And not just a physical space, but a place within us that. Or a space within the people we love. A space where our stories are held, where our laughter still echoes, where we can really sit with the lives that we've lived. Now, as a death doula, I carry that sentiment into my work all the time. I mean, I help people build that place no matter where they are, whether it's home, a hospice room, a hospital bed. It's not always about the physical walls around them, though that can be a part of it. But it's really about crafting a space where their memories can land gently right, where the stories can be honored, where they can feel deep in their bones that their lives matter.
And this isn't just something for the dying. This is something for all of us. We have to be intentional about how we live, about what we create about the memories we're making. Not just for ourselves, but for those who will carry those memories forward. Because one day, we will need that place. And we won't want it to feel empty. So what are you filling your home with? What are you filling your life with? What stories will you hold close when it's time to sit and remember? What will make you smile?
What will make you weep? What will make you feel it all all over again? Because that's the goal, isn't it? To live a life in such a way that when we finally sit down to look back, we'll know that we really lived. Yeah. Thank you.
