We spend years building digital lives; storing photographs in the cloud, running businesses through email and websites, managing finances online, documenting memories on social media, and collecting subscriptions, files, passwords, and conversations across dozens of platforms. Yet very few people make a plan for what should happen to those accounts when they die.

I think as a society we’ve trained ourselves to push past endings as quickly as possible and focus our sights on the new beginnings ahead. Whether it’s the experience of job losses, losing a home, a business, the end of a cherished relationship or long-held dreams, it’s all part of life.

The role of a doula is nothing new. For as long as humans have lived in community, there have been those who quietly and steadfastly walked alongside others through life’s most profound thresholds. Just as every village had a healer or spiritual guide, there were always people, often women, who knew how to tend to a birthing mother, or how to sit with the dying, offering comfort, practical support and a steady presence. These were community roles, passed down through observation, experience and care, rather than through formal qualifications. They belonged to the fabric of daily life, woven into the rhythms of birth, death, and everything in between.