Your Last Chapter

"they weren't tombs, my love, they were wombs."

By

How do I see death? Death to me is an invitation

To love intensely & to say "I love you" without hesitation
To be present in the moment
To have the conversations I've been putting off.
To be silly with my kids.
To take that trip.
To sit in the sun a little longer.
To stop saving joy for later.
To stop assuming there will always be more time or a next time.
To ask questions
To let go of what no longer serves me.
To become more intentional.

✨️May death do for you what it has done for me✨️

May it make the ordinary extraordinary.
May it remind you that time is precious.
May it help you notice the beauty around you.
May it propel you to become who you want to be and stop at nothing until you find what sets your soul on fire.
May it strenghten your willingness to live, rather than simply survive.

Xoxo
N

🌼 93 primaveras 🌼

Hoy celebro a la reina de nuestra familia.
Aunque la distancia nos separa, mi corazón te siente cerca, abuela. Te amo.

Hoy también supe de la muerte de la abuela de alguien… y no pude evitar detenerme y pensar que algún día esa llamada será para mí. En ese momento sostengo en mis manos el miedo y la gratitud. Solo puedo agradecer que todavía puedo llamar, escuchar, saber que mi abuela está ahí sana, fuerte, activa, independiente. Y solo queda pedirle a la vida que me regale otra oportunidad de verla, de abrazarla.

Ahí es donde pesa estar lejos. Ver cómo pasan los años, cómo se celebran momentos importantes sin uno… y entender que la distancia no solo separa lugares, también nos robaron tiempo que no vuelve.

Hoy te celebro Abuelita con todo lo que soy y desde donde estoy. 🤍

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Today I celebrate the queen of our family, my abuela, who is turning 93 years young!

I’ve come together with a group of thoughtful, like-minded humans to create a small, community-based collective offering spaces to explore grief, loss, and end-of-life matters through conversation, reflection, and shared experience.

We’ve been hosting regular Death Cafés in our community, and we’re now expanding this work to create a space that explores grief beyond death—connecting through real stories, and reflecting together over three guided sessions.

Grief takes many forms. It lives in transitions, distance, illness, and the quiet losses we carry in our day-to-day lives. These experiences often go unrecognized, and even less often shared.

We’re pleased to offer this free 3-session series to explore, connect, and reflect together.

📍 ST. BERNARD CATHOLIC SCHOOL
12 Duckworth Street, Toronto

🗓️ 3 Fridays: May 29 · June 5 · June 12

🕕 6:00–7:30 PM

Limited spaces. Register through the link in my bio or DM me for more information.

4to Encuentro de la Red Latinoamericana de Acompañamiento en Muerte y Duelo en Buenos Aires, Argentina.

Un grupazo de seres - que fortuna haber compartido con ellos durante esos 4 dias. Todavía metabolizando la experiencia (lo aprendido, lo movido, lo sentido)

Gracias infinitas!

This month’s read has me thinking about how strange it is that we avoid talking about death… until we’re suddenly faced with it.

"Never Can Say Goodbye" by Darnell Lamont Walker highlights how across cultures we are taught to avoid talking about death, yet we still have to come face to face with it.

Through his work as a death doula, Darnell shares what it looks like to accompany people at the end of life, not in theory, but in real, human moments.

What stands out to me isn’t just the stories, it’s what they reveal:
🌷We already know how to do this. We just don’t talk about it.
🌷 We show up for the people we love when needed. We sit, we listen, we hold their hand and that is enough.

This book also calls out the silence around death, especially in communities where grief is carried but rarely spoken out loud.

Reading it feels less like learning something new… and more like remembering something we’ve always known, which is, that love is having someone hear, witness and hold our story at the end.

And maybe learning how to do this for others is part of how we make peace with our own endings.

Looking forward to meeting next month with .farewell.library and .darnell to discuss!

The closer I walk with the dying, the more I understand:
death is not a single door.
It’s a series of thresholds the body crosses in its own time,
each one a soft release,
each one a quiet surrender,
each one a truth the soul already knows.

We are so conditioned to look for “the moment,”
as if dying is a switch that flips.
But it’s more like a tide —
a slow, sacred receding
that carries us from form into freedom.

For those who are witnessing,
for those who are walking someone home,
for those who are preparing for their own crossing:
may you remember that nothing about this is wrong.
It is ancient.
It is natural.
It is holy.

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Reposted these words by because they are so important. These words deserve more than a share.