When Two Worlds Collide: A Hospice Nurse's Grief Journey

The life of a hospice nurse is filled with moments of compassion, courage, and presence at the bedside of others as they walk their final journey. We train to recognize the signs, anticipate changes, and provide comfort and dignity at life’s end. But when the person in the bed is your own mother, the line between professional knowledge and personal heartbreak begins to blur.

During my mother’s final months, I lived in two worlds that often collided. As a nurse, I knew what was happening. As a daughter, I wanted desperately for it not to be true. Reality and denial tugged at me like two opposing forces, leaving me emotionally raw and spiritually torn.

Since her passing, I have discovered that grief is not just “real”—it is heavy. It presses down in ways I never anticipated, and it colors my work in hospice with new layers of vulnerability. Motivation seems elusive; the goals I once pursued so passionately feel harder to reach. And when I do not accomplish them, my body reminds me with physical waves of anxiety—sweating, a racing heart, and the sense that I can’t quite catch my breath.

People often say to “take one day at a time.” But some days, even that feels impossible. Right now, I take one minute at a time. And that’s okay.

For those of us who work in hospice, grief is not something we can compartmentalize neatly. It shows up unexpectedly—in the sound of a patient’s voice, the smell of a home, the words of a caregiver—and suddenly the memories flood back, threatening to derail the day. The unspoken truth of our profession: we carry our own grief while holding space for others in theirs.

If you find yourself in this same place, please know you are not alone. Whether you are a hospice professional or a grieving child, permit yourself to honor both roles. Allow yourself the grace to pause, to breathe, to cry, and to heal.

Grief may feel like a weight that you cannot lift, but with time, support, and compassion for ourselves, we can find a rhythm again. Not the same as before, but a new way of carrying both the memory of those we love and the work we are called to do.

For today, and for this very moment, that is enough.

—Shelia Nelson-Meredith, RN

The Hospice Coach

Quality is Intentional!