Literature Review

City forced him to cut the oak tree tied to his late wife, so he found a way to save it forever Scoop Upworthy; by Prachi Mallick; 11/4/25 It was where he had proposed to her, where they carved their initials 30 years earlier, where their love had taken root. In a recent post, one husband shared how a city order forced him to say goodbye to the oak tree that had been central to his marriage, and how, instead of letting that final link vanish, he found a way to rebuild it into something he could carry with him forever. ... "For two years, I couldn’t touch it. Then, one day, I saw someone who had turned wood from his grandfather’s barn into furniture. Something clicked inside me. I taught myself woodworking through YouTube videos and practicing at night. Every cut, every curve of that tree became part of a door. The branches that once bore our initials are now the frame for all who enter our home."Editor's Note: Click here and scroll down for a photo of this husband's beautiful artistry.

Elderly people look at their younger reflections in this beautiful photo series by Tom Hussey Digital Synopsis; photos by Tom Hussey; retrieved from the internet 7/10/25 'Reflections of the Past' is an award-winning photo series by commercial advertising photographer Tom Hussey. The photographs show an elderly person looking pensively at the reflection of his/her younger self in the mirror. Hussey was inspired by a World War II veteran who said "I can't believe I'm going to be 80. I feel like I just came back from the war. I look in the mirror and see this old guy." It's beautiful, touching ... Editor's Note: Click here to view this touching series. The phrases "every photo tells a story" and "a picture is worth a thousand words" come to life. This award-winning campaign was used in a marketing campaign by Novartis for a treatment of Alzheimer's disease. [Our newsletter has no disclosures to report.] These photos are under strict copyright laws with strict enforcement. They can be shared easily via social media links at the top of its webpage. 

Redmond family honors late husband with holiday trees for cancer patients NBC KING-5, Redmond, WA; by Anne Erickson; 12/15/25 Every December, Linda Pankow's Redmond home fills with volunteers, friends and family for a 25-year tradition born from loss. "I like the mayhem," Pankow said with a smile. The group decorates more than 100 small holiday trees destined for cancer and hospice patients at Evergreen Health. "It's hard around holidays when you've lost somebody," Pankow said. Her husband, Rick, a nursery owner, died from non-Hodgkin's lymphoma at age 43. The tree-decorating project became a way to honor his memory and his love of trees. "Doing this and knowing my husband loved trees because he was a nursery person, it just kind of brings me joy," Pankow said. "It's a good memory of him and a tribute to him." The tradition has grown to include multiple generations. This year, Rick's two-month-old great-nephew Milar joined the effort.

Refuge: How people experiencing homelessness spend their final days NBC News, KUSA-9, Denver, CO; by Chris Vanderveen and Chris Hansen; 12/21/25 If few cities and states know how to effectively deal with their unhoused populations, far fewer know what to do when the unhoused enter the final days, weeks, and months of their lives. The 9NEWS documentary “Refuge” represents a deeply personal examination of one of the more invisible crises of American life today: hospice care for the unhoused. “People like to think somehow, some way it’s being taken care of, but it’s not,” said James “JP” Hall, founder of Denver’s Rocky Mountain Refuge, one of a handful of places around the country that offers custodial end-of-life care for people experiencing homelessness.

I was 36 when my husband died — here's what most of us get wrong about grief Yahoo!Health; by Laura Williams, MS, ACSM EP-C; 12/16/25 Grief is universal, yet deeply personal. Instead of trying to "fix" or "help" someone who's grieving, it's important to make space for them to perpetually navigate the permanent reality of death. ... It turns out, time doesn't heal all wounds. Life simply grows around the immediacy of the pain — the sun rises and sets, and new experiences accumulate, whether or not you want them to, gradually taking the edge off. However, grief isn't just "deep sadness." It's not depression. It's not something you "get over" or "move on from." Grief is the loss of someone you loved — a voice you'll never hear again, a laugh you'll never share. It's the inside jokes no one else understands, the clothing that won't be worn again, ... It's a bed that won't be slept in, a dining room chair that remains empty, a silence that won't be filled.Editor's Note: This first-person reflection gives language to what grief truly is—and is not. It dismantles the myth that time “fixes” loss and instead names grief as a lifelong companion shaped by absence, memory, and love. If this piece feels uncomfortable or heavy at first glance, that discomfort may be instructive. For hospice and palliative leaders, it invites a sober question: how well does your organization acknowledge grief as enduring—and provide timely, meaningful support beyond death?

Daughters of Marshall: 4th-generation graduate credits family's perseverance for her success The Herald-Dispatch, Huntington, WV; by Mary Jane Epling; 12/13/25 What looks like an ordinary graduation stage to most will feel more like a well-worn trail to Marshall University senior Emma Randan--a path carved by three generations of women who crossed it before her.  ... [Forty-six years before ]her great-grandmother, Laura Darby, was wrapping up her long-awaited associate's degree in nursing, taking part in Marshall's Class of 1979. ... Darby would go on to complete a bachelor's degree in nursing and earned a master's by 1982, using her Marshall-built network to dream up Hospice of Huntington for a senior project. The nonprofit founded by Darby was the first hospice in the state of West Virginia to become Medicare-certified, and it still provides end-of-life care to patients from West Virginia, southern Ohio and eastern Kentucky.

My patient was gone. I had to help his family see it: The art of medicine means sitting with families’ grief and hope Stat10 - First Opinion; by Raya Elfadel Kheirbek; 12/15/25 Bullets tore through Michael Thompson’s car at a stop sign, ending the life of a 35-year-old father in an instant. Just minutes earlier, he had dropped his 8-year-old daughter, Emma, at dance class, her pink tutu bouncing as she waved goodbye. Now, in the ICU, his young body lay tethered to machines — ... a ventilator’s hiss forcing his chest to rise. ... His family’s grief filled the room, raw and heavy, as I prepared to document our meeting. On the screen, a pop-up appeared: “Patient is deceased; do you want to continue?” Its cold bluntness paled against their pain. Michael looked alive. His chest rose and fell with the ventilator. ... Medicine isn’t just tests or machines. It is presence — sitting with families in their grief, faith, and love. Our tools should support that presence, not interrupt it with cold prompts. ... Most U.S. hospitals lack clear guidelines for these situations, leaving families and clinicians alike in limbo. They also worried about organ donation — a decision fewer than 1% of families consent to after brain death, often because the body still looks alive.Editor's Note: We thank the palliative care physicians, nurses, social workers, and chaplains who provide sensitive presence with families in the unbearable spaces between hope and loss, especially when life support decisions arise. In this season, may we pause to honor those who carry this sacred work—and remember the families who have had to accept harsh truths while machines still “breathe.”

Volunteers woven into the fabric of Horizon Hospice and Palliative Care The Spokesman-Review, Spokane, WA; by Cindy Hval; 12/11/25 Ruth Wagley believes home is a profound place. The volunteer coordinator for Horizon Hospice and Palliative Care said her life experience has come full circle. “I had home births. I home-schooled my kids. Now, I work in a place where we value home death,” she said. “The heart of hospice is that no one dies alone, or in pain, and everyone can die at home.” Although she had managed volunteers throughout her career, she had never worked for a company where that type of service was essential to the funding and operation of the business. Medicare/Medicaid mandates that hospices provide at least 5% of patient care hours through volunteers. “Volunteers are woven into the fabric of Horizon Hospice,” she said.Editor's Note: Do you think of your hospice volunteers as being "woven into the fabric" of the services you provide, or as an add-on, an afterthought, just another regulatory requirement? Especially at the holidays, be sure to thank your volunteers in ways that are meaningful to them.

Volunteer vocalist has provided solace to hospice patients for 23 years The Atlanta Journal-Constitution; by Danielle Charbonneau;  Kevin Dunn has been a volunteer vocalist at Wellstar West Georgia Hospice in LaGrange for 23 years, providing solace to hospice patients and their families through his music. ... Dunn's voice has been a source of comfort for many, including Kitty Matthews Crawford, who experienced a moment of peace when her grandfather's face softened after hearing his voice. Dunn has sung at roughly 250 funerals and has never charged a fee for his services. His dedication to music and hospice care has made a significant impact on the lives of those he serves. [Access may be limited by paywall]

Ask Sheri: Overcoming fear and expressing thanks Lovin' Life; by Sheri Simpson; 12/7/25Dear Sheri, When my mother’s health began to decline, our family found ourselves standing at the edge of something we couldn’t quite prepare for. ... From the very first visit, the hospice team wrapped my mother — and our entire family — in comfort, dignity and compassion. They didn’t just care for her; they cared about her. They learned her favorite songs, listened to her stories, and treated her as the vibrant, funny, loving woman she’d always been. The nurses would hum along when she sang softly, and one even brought her a small, crocheted blanket because she noticed how much mom loved the color lavender. Hospice is not about giving up, it’s about giving more: more peace, more presence, more love. Azorna Hospice helped us see that. ...

HOV honors family traditions North Central News; by Staff; 12/8/25 Family traditions enrich the holiday season, and for Hispanic families in the community, Día de los Muertos is an especially meaningful observance, says Lin Sue Flood, director of community engagement at Hospice of the Valley. “Though the name translates to ‘Day of the Dead,’ this cherished Mexican holiday is not a morbid occasion. Instead, it is a vibrant celebration that honors those we hold dear through ofrendas (altars) adorned with photos, favorite foods and bright marigolds, alongside music and dancing,” she added. ... Organizer Dulce Rodriguez noted that the event helps reinforce family bonds across generations and strengthens cultural identity.

Poinsettias bring Christmas cheer and funds for hospice The Times-News; by Tommy Murphy; 12/4/25 This week, thousands of red and green poinsettias have been hand-delivered to folks across Troup County and beyond as part of a fundraiser for Wellstar West Georgia Hospice. ... This is the 36th annual poinsettia fundraiser held by West Georgia Hospice. It’s their second-largest fundraiser of the year behind their annual Ely Callaway Golf Tournament, said Sandy Melton, volunteer coordinator for West Georgia Hospice. ... This year, they’re delivering around 3,800 poinsettias.

Accompanying Dad on his final journey: View from the treehouse Catholic Review; by Barb Arland-Fye; 12/1/25 Dad seemed preoccupied when we arrived at my parents’ home on a Saturday night in late September. Newly diagnosed with a fast-moving cancer, he had chosen to forgo chemotherapy for in-home hospice care, but “what-if” questions filled his mind. ... [Scroll ahead to hospice care at home.] We were determined to help Mom (and my siblings) accompany Dad on his final journey to heaven’s gate and we did, in his favorite space, a four-season room the grandkids affectionately named “The Treehouse” for its view of the woods. This is the room where Dad engaged in his favorite pastimes — reading and bonding with his kids and grandkids while urging on his beloved Minnesota Vikings, Gophers and other teams. ... The death rattle ceased and the quiet seemed deafening. Dad died at 6:40 a.m. Oct. 3, with my mom, Tim, and Steve and I at his side. We are grateful his suffering had ended but heartbroken to lose him. Sixty-seven years ago, Dad welcomed me into the world after an hours-long wait for Mom to give birth to their first child. I had the privilege of accompanying him on his journey out.