Profiles in presence: SARAH BLANCHARD

Interview with SARAH BLANCHARD IN HER OWN WORDS:

Here you are, muddling through COVID and its aftermath like the rest of the world, finding that the time has come to make some serious life changes. For Sarah Blanchard, a long-time resident of Grants Pass, you basically do “a 180 shifting from being a behind the scenes person” to work that encompasses sharing deep conversation and illuminating end-of-life choices for those who rarely feel any choices are in their hands. Read on!

A bookkeeper by trade, Sarah recognized that it was time for a change when the once $350,000 annualized company that assisted people coping with homelessness grew to a $7 million dollar organization.  “It outgrew me. It was huge and I was very burnt out. I had three adopted children, and with all the school challenges during COVID, I realized that I either had to quit my job or quit my kids, and I couldn’t quit my kids! 

Around that time I first heard about death doulas, and it piqued my interest. . . three years later it was still piquing my interest and I decided, ‘I’m going to pursue this.’ I looked into getting some help with the cost of a training program and learned that The Peaceful Presence Project was doing a talk right here in Grants Pass the following week. It was perfect timing! I went to their talk, applied and received their rural doula grant, covering the full training. That was amazing! It was exactly what I needed.” 

Sarah reflects, “The Peaceful Presence training was intensive. There was a LOT of information. I’ve saved it and re-visited it many times, realizing that there was so much I never knew myself. It has helped me personally in that after my dad had a health emergency, we talked about death and his wishes for the first time. He has now done his advance directives and we’ve discussed writing down his life story. I was very grateful that I had taken the training before he had this setback and was able to have these conversations with him, confidently. This wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t taken the course.”

Upon completing the training Sarah re-contacted her old boss who had since established “Joy Community”, a small-scale community of tiny homes for seniors experiencing homelessness in the Medford area. Sarah offered to provide a group for residents to build awareness about end of life choices, advance directives and to share and address concerns on different topics related to death and dying. “Just as I was starting this, Peaceful Presence notified us that they had Oregon-targeted compassion funds to compensate doulas for their community based work.  And so I applied for compassion funds to support some of my work.. Again they came at exactly the right time, so now I am working pretty steadily with about five people in Joy Community”. In addition to facilitating the bi-weekly group, Sarah provides one-on-one sessions to help with anything from completing advance directives to assisting one resident to make a plan for her cat at the time of her death.

In the group one week, the attendees created a group legacy project. Each member shared a couple of words that described their childhood, teen years, early adult years and so on. With the help of Chat GPT a poem was created incorporating everyone’s words and sentiments. This stunning legacy poem entitled, “A Life in Four Tides”, concludes this article. In doing this work, Sarah relates, “It has been so amazing to get to know these people and to get to be an intimate part of their lives.” It strikes her that for many, “so little is known about this process.” Some will say, ‘what is there to talk about? When you’re dead, you’re dead/’ Sarah reveals the many aspects to consider: “What about when you are dying?What happens to your body, to your family?How about your legacy?It is important that people realize they have choices. It doesn’t just happen to me, I can control some of this. For people who have been homeless, that control is something new and exhilarating! They have been so grateful to have this revelation.”

To other doulas considering work with the houseless population, Sarah says, “Don’t be afraid. These are people from all walks of life, some very well educated, some not, and everybody deserves that respect. Also, be careful because there are reasons why some people are homeless. Don’t get overly involved; keep it professional even while you share your own story to help people trust and connect with you.” 

Finally, regarding her connection to TPPP, Sarah says, “I’m so grateful to TPPP. It felt like everything fell into my lap, yet I manifested it, and they showed up. Having a grant that helped pay for training was life-changing, as well as funds to help doulas work with all people. I love being able to serve people without it being a financial stress to them. It seems weird to be saying ‘I’m enjoying death work’, but it gives me so much more than I am giving out”.  I think we would all agree that Sarah’s giving of herself in this work is truly compassion in action. 

A Life in Four Tides 

Childhood came like weather without warning - horrific storms, challenging nights,

 sad rooms where echoes stayed too long, yet also the wild map of adventure, 

paths changing, ever-changing, trying, small hands reaching for something steady 

and sometimes finding love - loving and loved - a light left on in at least one window.

 Young adulthood burst in like open road - full of adventure, happiness riding shotgun, 

freedom loud in the ears, stability glimpsed like a town on the horizon. 

Great responsibility sat heavy in the back seat, while rebellion pressed the accelerator. 

White walls closed in, trouble knocked, unhinged nights blurred into 

unpredictable mornings - a life learning its own velocity.

Middle age arrived carrying too many bags - quadruple the weight, 

quadruple the love, adventurous still but stitched with heartbreaks. 

Challenge became a daily language. Moving on became a muscle. 

Hard-working days, learning nights, stress humming under the skin, 

a heart sometimes wrenching, sometimes widening, 

coming into myself even while self-medicated, numb, 

rebellious in quieter ways, angry at the unfair math of it all - 

yet still here, still standing, still becoming. 

And then the senior years - not an ending but another shoreline. 

Horrendous losses, yes. Sadness that sits down beside you uninvited. 

Challenges that test the bones. But also rediscovering - 

finding pieces of yourself you thought were gone,  

holding them up to the light like sea glass. Grateful, grateful, grateful 

for the simple miracle of another morning. Happy in small, fierce ways. 

Hopeful as a seed under snow. Promising not perfection, but peace.

A whole life, stitched from opposites - storm and shelter, 

rebellion and responsibility, numbness and awakening, grief and gratitude. 

Not one story, but many voices braided together, each word a thread, 

each year a tide that pulled away only to return with something new.

And here we stand - weathered, wondrous, unfinished - proof that a life can be 

horrific and loving, unhinged and hopeful, heart-wrenching and healing, all at once. 

Still moving. Still rediscovering. Still promising.