WVMC Palliative and Hospice Care Program

26/01/2026

26/01/2026

23/01/2026

Death is transformation, not ending. And within us they live as the stories we carry, the love that persists, the ways they shaped who we’ve become.

We honor our beloved dead by letting them transform. By letting them become soil, become trees, become the air we breathe.

This is the great Change.

22/01/2026

Skin care, positioning, mouth and lip care might seem like small things but to seriously ill patients, they can feel BIG.

21/01/2026

Death can be traumatic, especially if you don't know what to expect.
This is why the When You Die Project and our films exist. We want to help people understand the one thing that will touch us all.

16/01/2026

Every single person using hospice care deserves a good experience.

11/01/2026

When we pause and look back, it won’t be the material things that rise to the surface of memory. What lingers are the tender details, the sounds of laughter filling a quiet room, the warmth of a hand slipped into ours, the way the sky looked when the sun painted it with fire one evening. These are the threads that quietly stitch together the fabric of a life well-lived.

At the end of our journey, it won’t be the size of our homes or the wealth we have gathered that brings comfort. It will be the love we shared, the embraces that lasted just a little longer, the words that made us feel seen, the moments that told us we were safe and deeply connected. These are the luxuries worth holding on to, the treasures that remain long after everything else has faded away.

So today, while we still can, may we choose to notice them, gather them, and celebrate them, because these small and beautiful moments are the true riches of life. I wish you lots of these …

xo
Gabby
www.thehospiceheart.net

09/01/2026

Grief can be felt, not fixed.
(Thanks to )

03/01/2026

Rebuilding your emotional reserves

After periods of emotional strain, your energy, focus and sense of balance may feel depleted. Rebuilding your emotional reserves takes time, gentleness and patience and it begins with small, intentional moments of care.

These practices can help support restoration:

Ways to rebuild

• Spend time in environments that soothe you - nature, sunlight, music
• Reconnect with activities that bring comfort or joy
• Allow yourself short periods of rest throughout the day
• Share a light or grounding moment with a colleague
• Practise simple mindfulness or breathing exercises
• Reflect on the meaning you find in your work

Remember - rebuilding is not about returning to “normal” quickly. It is about honouring your own needs and giving yourself permission to replenish at your own pace.

Your wellbeing matters and you deserve the same compassion, care and understanding that you offer to others every day.

Take care of yourself, so that you can continue to care for others.

01/01/2026

As this year comes to a close, I am not interested in resolutions or reinvention. I am interested in this moment, the one we are standing in right now. In the things we know we need to say, the changes we know we are ready to make, and the gentle courage it takes to stop waiting.

At the end of each day, I ask myself three questions:
What did I do well?
What could I have done differently?
And what did I learn?
Not as judgment, but as care. Because when we notice, when we learn, we loosen the grip of the past and make room to move forward unburdened.

If I could offer one wish, it would be this: let yourself let go. Release what no longer fits, the weight you were never meant to carry, the doubts that dim your light, the stories that tell you that you are not enough (you are enough). Let 2025 rest where it belongs, and allow 2026 to open like a blank page. Not because the calendar says so, but because every morning offers the same quiet invitation to begin again.

So let us enter this year with softer hearts and steadier steps. Choosing kindness over judgment. Curiosity over certainty. Community over division. We don’t have to agree to belong to one another, we only have to be kind.

Thank you, 2025, for the lessons I didn’t ask for but needed. For the losses that softened me, the changes that redirected me, and the questions that led me back to myself. You were heavy, and you were honest. I have learned. I have listened. And now, with gratitude and intention, I choose to release you, honored, acknowledged, and complete, as I step forward lighter than I arrived.

May 2026 meet you with peace, with possibility, and with the deep permission to walk forward lighter than before.

xo
Gabby
www.thehospiceheart.net

28/12/2025

Sitting with the dying has taught me something simple and profound: how we live matters. And part of living well is learning how, and when, to tell the truth.

Not the sharp kind.
Not the unfiltered kind.
The honest, thoughtful truth that’s offered with kindness and care.

So often we hold our words back out of fear; fear of hurting someone's feelings, disappointing them, changing the relationship, or not being able to show up in the way they need. Sometimes we stay in relationships because we are afraid to be honest about how we feel. This is not healthy or fair to us or them.

The truth has a way of staying with us when it is unspoken, like a quiet weight we carry long after the moment has passed. Working in end-of-life care has not only taught me how to live, but also how I don't want to die. I do not want to die with regret, for not saying the things I should have, for not stepping away from unhealthy situations, and for not standing up for myself in times that I absolutely should have.

Giving ourselves permission to tell the truth, gently, compassionately, and with intention, can be deeply freeing.

It doesn’t mean saying everything to everyone.
I agree there are some things we take with us to our grave.
But it does mean honoring ourselves enough to be honest when the moment invites it.

When our words are chosen with care, truth can create space where it is needed, strengthen bonds where they matter, and relieve us of what we were never meant to carry alone.

Living well isn’t about perfection, it is about integrity.
Honor your truth, because even when others don’t agree, choosing honesty lets both hearts find peace.

xo
Gabby
www.thehospiceheart.net

26/12/2025

Sometimes what we need most at the end of life, and in the middle of grief, isn’t answers, it is permission.

Permission to forgive ourselves for what we did or didn’t do.
Permission to release the weight we have been carrying.
Permission to let go… and to allow someone we love to let go too.

Yesterday I visited a friend whose dog had been sick a few days. I came to check on both of them. I sat down on the floor beside this dog, a dog that I helped select before he was adopted by my friend. I love him too.

I could feel it in every part of me that his body was preparing to leave. I knew in my heart that he was dying. As I gently stroked his head and back, he leaned into the love, and I whispered, “It’s okay. You can let go. I’m giving you permission to let go.” And I said, “goodbye.”

It was as if he heard me.
His body softened.
Something shifted. And I knew with every ounce of my being that he was letting go.

What comforted me most was that I knew he wasn’t in pain and I wanted to make sure that everyone else knew that too.

Before I left, I let the people who love him know how I was feeling, and to not stop holding on to hope, but that they also deserved to know what I believed in my heart. I truly believe that when we allow ourselves to acknowledge both, we are met with less shock and more peace.
He died a few hours later.

In hospice care, I witness this often. When permission is given, to rest, to release, to forgive, to let go, something inside finally exhales.

If you are standing in that tender space right now, loving someone who is dying, grieving someone you have said goodbye to, or learning how to forgive, give yourself permission…

To let go.
To say goodbye.
To forgive.
To make peace.
To love deeply… and still live fully.

When we give ourselves or others permission to do what is difficult, we are walking alongside them, instead of watching them do it alone… even when we are saying goodbye to them.

xo
Gabby
www.thehospiceheart.net