Compassion, Ritual, and End-of-Life Care in Ajijic
She didn’t want to leave. For a distraction, she turned her gaze toward the window, and the Birds of Paradise were blooming with that lush orange beak and bright, wild crests rising like tiny flames. “God, those are my favorite!” she said with as much energy as she could muster.
She had lived in Ajijic long before the world discovered it as a retiree refuge. “February in Ajijic,” she murmured, “the sun, the thermal waters, margaritas, sunsets … who wouldn’t want to be here?”
This town had been her companion: the cobblestones she learned to carefully negotiate, the Día de Muertos parades she danced through, the Halloween costumes, the Fourth of July barbecues—a life stitched together by seasons and celebrations.
Now, she lies on her sofa with me holding her hand. “You are a Godsend,” she whispered. And I thought, she could be my sister, only 10 years older. But age doesn’t matter when you’re at the portal, transitioning from one form of life to another.
I am a Death Doula guiding those who are on the way ‘home’. Life is so precious, yet we often squander the time. “I’ll get to that later,” I don’t want to deal with that now,’’ “It’s not as important as this deadline!” and here it is, the Dead-Line.
When we cross it, where do we go? I wonder.
“Water or martini?” I ask, knowing her Advanced Care plan by heart: soft music, a view of the sky, lipstick always, and an occasional libation.
“Oh, lovely,” she said. “Martinis reminds me of watching the sunset, sitting with my lover in that restaurant by the lake.”
I leaned closer: “Tell me.”
And she did … memories drift through the room as we continue our conversational Life-Review of her connections, her hopes, and all the good she did in the world.
She and I are both lucky. I have been seeing her for about four months; and we’ve had lots of time to recall her life. Like the time she was up for a promotion at work but chose marriage instead. And, when her son, a Marine, was killed in Fallujah in 2004, during the Iraq war, code named “Operation Phantom Fury.” A sadness fell on us both when she shared that hard memory. We created a ritual and honored him with water, fire and earth.
She wanted a ritual for her passing as well. Nothing religious, so we planned for Birds of Paradise and Rose petals to be strewn on her deathbed. Friends would place little notes beside her, with their wishes for her travels. She will be cremated “It’s so economical and earth friendly,” she proclaimed, as if letting me know that she still cared for the planet even as she was preparing to leave it.
Her paperwork was done during our early visits. The Notario settled the Will, DNR form, Powers of Medical and Financial Attorney Documents, banks were reviewed, and the doctor was a collaborator – the practicalities of departure were gracefully handled. The Emergency information papers were easy to download from the website www.LakeChapalaEnd-Of-LifeCare.org.
She was an only child, she had an only child and now her family were her friends, of whom only two were left. “It will be my turn soon,” she confided in me. We both took deep breaths, as if to really absorb that information. I hear that the two friends visited often, telling stories, laughing, playing cards while she listened, sometimes giggling softly like a girl overhearing secrets.
“I want to have a ‘fun-eral’ and give away some of my wonderful possessions! We’ll have a party and people can tell me to my face how they feel, instead of to my casket.” She still has a sense of humor.
Sometimes she cries as her energy wanes, the loss of life becoming more of a reality. She grieves and I hold her. She is informed about the changes that happen throughout this journey home. I explain—the drifting into longer and deeper sleep, the shifting erratic breath, the body releasing its needs and tasks one by one. But until then: breathing, music, touch, the garden, the warmth of sunlight through the window—All the holiness of ordinary moments are noted as we practice living. She is not waiting for death. She is living until she cannot. With a smile she reminds me: “When I meet my maker, I bet we’ll have a lot to talk about!”
Tzivia Stein-Barrett is one of a number of Death Doulas in Lake Chapala. Lake Chapala End of Life Care Community on Facebook/Meta and www.LakeChapalaEnd-of-LifeCare.org are available with resources.
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- Lipstick Always - July 31, 2026
