In moments like this, advocacy is not about policies or procedures. It is about presence.

At lunch in a beautiful assisted living facility, four women were delighted. Five men were not. The difference wasn’t the food—it was history.

An eight-year-old was placed in front of a dying woman and told to read. No one asked if Margaret had the energy to comfort a frightened child. In hospice, even kindness has limits—and choice still matters.

“I wish I’d gone to Hawaii.”