My first experience with death came when I was 16. My grandfather had a heart attack. One summer day, sitting on the beach with my cousins, my world shifted. An hour later, I was running through hospital doors only to find his lifeless body. The days that followed were dark and confusing. He had cancer - wasn’t he beating it?

The very next summer, in the same spot on the beach, my grandmother sat down beside me. “Chan, the cancer is back.” This time, she chose no treatment - just time. Her honesty gave me comfort. There was no surprise ahead, just presence. Over the next three months, I watched her fade from, as she lovingly described herself, “grandmotherly plump,” to a frail existence. I was deeply grateful for both our time together and the hospice team who guided us through.

Two years later, I said goodbye to my great-grandmother, who had captured her remarkable life story on handwritten pages bound by a single ring that has become one of my cherished belongings.

Then came my paternal grandfather; the strongest man I knew slowly declined into Parkinson’s and dementia. Bound to a wheelchair, helmet on his head, he fought death to the bitter end.

And then there was my mom. The scans showed cancer spread throughout her body and into her brain. She chose to fight—for us. But it wasn’t much of a fight at all. Diagnosed in May, gone by July. My brother was 16. I was 30. Her death left a ripple that still moves through our lives in countless ways.

Laying in the hospital bed alongside her, while she took her last breath, death planted a seed in me. The experience attuned me to the emotional stakes and ripple effects of losing loved ones - how beauty and pain often sit side by side.

15 years later, when a mentor shared that she had hired a death doula after her own rare cancer diagnosis, I was awestruck. I didn’t even know such a role existed. A few months after her passing, I joined INELDA, completed end-of-life training, and found the calling that had been growing roots since my mother’s death.

Between and Beyond is founded on a mission is to foster open and meaningful conversations about end-of-life, minimize confusion, and transform planning into something tender and empowering. What we leave behind matters—and with courage and compassion, end-of-life preparation can become a gift that lives beyond a lifetime.