A mother’s grief, a doula’s calling: Carolyn’s story
When Carolyn Murton lost her 27-year-old son to MAID eight years ago, there wasn’t much support for families like hers.
“There was no one to talk to,” she says. “We all coped in our own ways, but we couldn’t really talk about it together. Not easily. It was just… hard.”
That experience never left her. The silence, the isolation, the overwhelming grief – it shaped her. And eventually, it called her toward something new. Today, Carolyn is a volunteer with MAID Family Support Society. She’s also studying to become an end-of-life doula, a role that aligns perfectly with her deep desire to support families navigating complex grief and anticipatory loss.
“Being able to support people who are either anticipating the MAID death of a loved one, or have already gone through it – that felt like a natural step for me. It’s a way to take that pain and use it to help someone else.”
A shared story, a simple presence
Carolyn hasn’t had many calls yet—just one so far—but it was enough to affirm why she does this.
“It was another mother,” she recalls. “Her son was dying. I could feel the heaviness of what she was holding. It was so familiar. I knew what that pain felt like.”
They talked. They shared. And in that space, something meaningful happened – a quiet connection built on shared experience.
“She needed to let it out,” Carolyn says. “And I was someone who could hold that space with her.”
The healing power of being heard
Carolyn doesn’t believe grief is something that needs fixing. In fact, she’s pretty sure that’s where people often get stuck – trying too hard to stay strong or push it down.
“Filing away our emotions might get us through a moment, but it doesn’t help us heal. Grief needs air. It needs expression.”
And that’s what she offers – not solutions, not advice, just the open-hearted willingness to be there, to really hear someone’s story without judgment or interruption.
Grounded, present, and prepared
Before a support call, Carolyn takes a moment for herself. She reads the intake form, takes a few deep breaths, sips some water, and settles into a space of presence. She wants to know just enough to meet the person where they are – while also remaining open to whatever may come up.
“No two experiences are the same,” she says. “Even when the pain feels familiar.”
Afterward, she leans on her community – the other volunteers and team at MAID Family Support Society.
“Being able to debrief is so important. Sometimes just saying out loud, ‘That was really hard’ helps me put it down and carry on.”
Grief shared is grief softened
When asked what she’d say to someone considering volunteering with MFSS, Carolyn lights up.
“This is where my people are,” she says simply. “Everyone here has walked this path in some way. It’s a safe place to show up as you are, and to give back in a way that truly matters.”
She believes deeply in the idea of turning loss into meaning – not to erase it, but to soften its edges.
“Helping others has helped me. It really has. I think we all need that – a place to put our pain, to make something of it.”
Reflections on the end of life
As someone deeply engaged in end-of-life care—both personally and professionally—Carolyn says that every conversation she has with a family adds to her understanding of what it means to die well.
“It’s made me think more intentionally about my own wishes,” she says. “About how I want to be supported, and how I want to support others.”
MAID Family Support Society doesn’t offer quick fixes. What it offers is something more powerful: connection, community, and the quiet reminder that we don’t have to go through this alone.
