Consciousness at the Threshold: A Nurse’s Reflections

      

By Cathy Yuhas, RN, CEOLD

Cathy Yuhas, RN, CEOLD   I can’t say for sure what happens after death, but after sitting with many people as they take their last breaths, I’ve come to believe that death is more of a passage than an end. The closer I’ve gotten to that threshold with patients and families, the less “clinical” it feels and the more it reveals itself as a mystery—profound, intimate, and deeply spiritual. Again and again, I have seen patterns that are hard to explain. The dying often sense something—or someone—beyond the room. It’s common for someone near the end to say, “He’s here,” referring to a loved one long gone. Many describe seeing light, feeling a welcoming presence, or having a sense of “going home.” Even the timing of death can seem deliberate: a long vigil that waits until a grandchild arrives, or a peaceful passing the moment a spouse steps out for coffee. These moments don’t seem like superstition to me; they feel like reassurance—like a hush that says, “This is held.” I don’t pretend to understand the science fully, but I’m open to what both spirit and science are starting to suggest. Some researchers suggest that consciousness may not be limited to the brain; theories, such as the Penrose–Hameroff model, propose quantum processes that could connect awareness to a larger field. I don’t claim to know if they’re correct. However, this perspective creates space to wonder: What if our essence isn’t just in our body, but connected to something greater—something we return to? That question alone has eased many fears at the bedside. What becomes clear in the final chapter is what truly matters. Dying removes everything except the essentials, and certain themes consistently emerge: forgiveness given or received, love spoken aloud, legacies chosen intentionally, and a search for meaning that focuses less on answers and more on presence. When the nonessentials fall away, what remains is love, connection, and sometimes a powerful sense of awe. Families often tell me they expected fear and instead discovered grace. Being present at so many final moments has forever changed how I see death. It’s not just a medical event; it is a sacred threshold. I have felt the energy in a room shift from effort to ease, from holding on to being held. It’s made me believe there’s more. I don’t know exactly what, but I trust that we are not alone in that moment. The work has also taught me that the most powerful medicine at the end is simple: a calm voice, a steady hand, the courage to tell the truth gently, and the willingness to sit in silence without rushing what is holy. My book, Walking Each Other Home, isn’t trying to define the afterlife. It’s about showing up—with love, clarity, and deep listening—for those in their final chapter. When we do that, death reveals itself differently. We begin to see it less as a failure to prevent and more as a passage to honor. Families tell me that reframing doesn’t erase grief, but it does transform it: from a cliff’s edge into a doorway. People sometimes ask if I believe in reincarnation, or whether I’ve had spiritual experiences while someone was dying, or what gives me hope. I keep an open heart to the mystery because I’ve witnessed too many meaningful moments to dismiss the idea of continued life. Yes, there have been experiences that moved me—quiet synchronicities, impossible “coincidences,” rooms that filled with peace at the exact second of passing. And what gives me hope is simple: that love doesn’t die. The instant of death often feels filled with grace, not fear. To me, that says something greater is at work, and that love continues in a form our words can’t quite capture. In the end, I don’t think death is something to fear so much as something to honor. If we can walk each other home with presence, honesty, and tenderness, death becomes less about loss and more about love changing its form. We may never prove the mystery, but we can live—and die—inside it with reverence.   Cathy J. Yuhas – RN, Certified Death Doula, Founder of Dying Matters, LLC With over 36 years of experience as a registered nurse and a certified death doula, Cathy has dedicated her career to changing the way we approach death, dying, and end-of-life care. As the founder of Dying Matters, LLC, she educates, supports, and guides individuals and families through one of life’s most profound transitions. Through her compassionate presence and expertise, Cathy empowers people to make informed, meaningful choices that honor their values and wishes at the end of life. As an educator and advocate, Cathy is now sharing her insights with a broader audience through her new book, Walking Each Other Home: Guiding Caregivers and Community Through the Sacred Passage of Death. Using storytelling, practical wisdom, and heartfelt guidance, she provides a roadmap for navigating end-of-life with dignity, clarity, and peace.