The "Silver Tsunami" is here, and we're not ready.

Michelle Cottle's recent piece on navigating her father's final months reveals a crisis hiding in plain sight:

The numbers are staggering:

• 10,000+ baby boomers turn 65 daily

• 59 million Americans are informal caregivers

• Yet 64% experience high emotional stress, 45% suffer physical strain, and up to 70% show symptoms of depression

The isolation is real. Despite millions walking this path, our culture avoids the conversation—leaving caregivers struggling alone with twice the rate of chronic illness as non-caregivers.

The care gap is widening. Visa restrictions and political tensions are limiting the foreign-born caregivers who have historically filled this role—caregivers from cultures that deeply honor both elders and those who care for them.

When my father-in-law needed care in his final months, we depended on compassionate caregivers from other countries. They didn't just provide services—they brought dignity, respect, and genuine pride in their work.

We need to have honest conversations about eldercare in America. The demographic wave isn't coming—it's already here.

As we kickoff of the winter holiday season I am holding close those that have lost a loved one recently and those that are dealing with the daily losses of witnessing their loved one changing.

As a culture we are not very good at grieving. We often expect people to do it in private or not at all, but feelings are real and we need to make space to process them. When we don't acknowledge them and let them see the light of our day they often force themselves out when least expected. The high energy often required during the holidays is a prime time for feelings to erupt.

The key is to make space for the tears, so that you can also make space for the joy. Each memory potentially has the gift of both feelings if we can welcome them in.

Jane Goodall has always been an inspiration to me—for so many reasons. But I recently came across a piece of wisdom from her that I didn’t expect: her perspective on dying as an adventure.

It's a mindset that many of us don’t consider, but what a powerful opportunity it is—to shift our view of death from fear to curiosity.

Many of us fear death because we see it only as an ending. But what if, like Jane, we could see it as the next great adventure?

The death positive movement is growing—especially among Gen-Xers in the Sandwich Generation caring for both kids and aging parents. Taryn Kinney, a death doula, helps families navigate end-of-life with compassion and clarity. Embracing mortality can empower us to plan, connect, and care better. Ready to learn more? Reach out today.

Jane Whitlock, a Minneapolis death doula, shares powerful insights in her TEDx talk. She compares how we prepare for birth vs. death, challenging our cultural fear of dying. By facing death openly, we can heal relationships, find purpose, and shape our legacy. Her talk highlights the value of death doulas in end-of-life care.

After major life transitions and the loss of both my father and father-in-law, I was called to support others facing end-of-life. I’m now training as a death doula in Austin, TX, offering emotional and spiritual care during life’s final chapter. We all face death—let’s face it with compassion, presence, and support.

With all the incredible specialists that my father saw over his cancer journey, no one was looking at the whole person. If someone had looked at all of his symptoms holistically our experience would have been different. The silos of specialization, common in our health care system, can often leave families with conflicting information and advice. Palliative Care can help patients and their families not only understand and evaluate their treatment options but also navigate the health system overall.

We don’t talk about death to avoid the minor discomforts of listening to someone talk about their hardships or share your moments of grief with another, we shut down and hold all the feelings in. We trade one small moment of comfort for long moments of misery when emotions are not acknowledged, expressed, and even named.

What if we didn’t wait “to begin living each moment in a manner that is deeply engaged?”