The Quiet Work of Being Present

When we think about end-of-life care, it is easy to focus on everything that needs to be done. There are decisions to make, details to consider, and practical pieces that require attention. Those things matter, and thoughtful planning can help bring clarity to difficult moments. But some of the most meaningful parts of this time have nothing to do with logistics at all. The practical work matters because it creates space for something even more important: the ability to simply be present.

I learned this lesson in a deeply personal way while sitting with my brother-in-law, John, in the final days of his life.

John had overcome more in his lifetime than most people could imagine. He had suffered severe abuse as a child before being adopted, which left him with a traumatic brain injury. Later in life, my husband and I bought a home just a mile from the group home where John lived, and that proximity brought us closer than we ever expected. After helping him get a cell phone, we quickly became the lucky recipients of ten or more phone calls a day from John—something we had definitely not anticipated, but came to cherish.

After a series of health struggles, John developed an infection his body could no longer fight. In his final days, as he lay unconscious, I spent hours simply sitting with him.

At the time, I was working as an attorney, and I remember feeling the pressure of a ninety-page contract waiting for my review. I knew work was piling up. I knew there were things I “should” be doing, but I couldn’t leave.

I felt compelled to just be there—to sit beside him, talk to him, and share that sacred time together. I remember hearing The Price Is Right blaring from his neighbor’s television down the hall while I sat quietly with John, reflecting on the many phone calls, conversations, and moments we had shared over the years.

After all he had endured in his life, I felt deeply grateful simply to be with him in those final moments—to offer my presence, my love, and the quiet comfort of not being alone.

That experience reminded me of something we often forget: we can become so focused on doing that we lose sight of the power of simply being.

At the end of life, presence matters deeply. It offers comfort, creates calm, and reminds someone they are not alone. Planning, preparation, and thoughtful decision-making all matter. But alongside all of that, there is also a need for stillness—for sitting with someone, noticing, and simply being there.

Because in those moments, presence is not a small thing - it is what really matters.