I operate within the gaps medical systems can leave behind, the emotional, spiritual, human messiness of dying that's more likely to show up as baggage than on a chart.
Sitting in service of the dying, and offering support well before their final moments to gain an understanding of what needs deciding, and who gets to decide it. I advocate and aid in navigating conversations, logistics, rituals, practicalities, and the unknowns alongside the dying and their circle.
My Approach
Brenna's an Irish name that may mean descendant of the sad one, little teardrop, or raven-haired, depending on where you look. Check, check, and check.
Ravens show up in Celtic folklore as psychopomps — guides that walk souls from earth to the afterlife. I didn't choose my name or these origins. But I've stopped treating it as coincidence and embraced being Brenna by name and by nature.
I've been answering death's call for longer than I've realized the line was open, serving as the healthcare proxy for more people than I'm actually related to.
And before having the language for any of this, I spent fifteen years in film production. Walking onto a set mid-crisis taught me how to stay steady and figure out fast what needed attention — a masterclass in reading a room.
Now, instead of managing a production, I use that same instinct to pay attention to what's in front of me, and to what may lie beneath. I tune my ear for what grief does to words and its power to circle sentences, stall like a wave deciding whether to break, and occasionally quit mid-thought. All are valid expressions that I intend to flow with rather than force where they're assumed or 'supposed' to go. That's how I bring people and ideas together, gathering what surfaces so the dying person experiences the ending they want.