My First Spiritual Awakening: Becoming my Dad’s Death Doula
In 2011, my dad got diagnosed with stage 4 stomach and colon cancer. He was a restaurant owner for many years and was chronically stressed, didn’t eat well (his weakness was ice cream), and was a grumpy man who swore in Chinese like it was his job. He was also a self-made man who I respect deeply, for he worked extremely hard to provide for his family.
Since he was always working, we rarely interacted. To be fair, he was not a man of many words. I honestly can’t remember a single conversation with him, even during my childhood when I grew up/worked in his restaurants. What I do remember was that he took me to work for other people’s restaurants when I was 11-12 years old; I would work long 12 hour shifts and it was essentially illegal child labor. You could say he engrained a very patriarchal work ethic into me, and I always felt like I had to work really hard to survive or prove myself.
Though he was physically there, it felt like I grew up without a dad. I remember a time someone came over to my house and asked “who’s that?”, pointing to him working on the yard… and I replied without thinking, “oh, just some guy”. Afterwards, I was filled with shame… But the fact remained, he never felt like a father to me.
I was 21 when we found out. My life was a mess. I was going down a destructive path of escapism, filled with alcohol and drugs. I was trying to fill a really big void that I wasn’t at all aware of, but was definitely there. I rebelled against my parents and had all kinds of unhealthy coping mechanisms. I regularly fell into depression, anxiety, dissociation, self-harm, drug abuse, addictions, eating disorders, codependent/abusive relationships – the list goes on…
Even when I found out my dad had cancer, I kept partying. I only visited him a handful of times at the hospital. My brother recently reminded me of a time we visited him together, when he berated me for not making the instant noodles he wanted to eat “the right way”. I honestly have no memory of this and was shocked when my brother told me. I had successfully repressed so many of the painful memories and feelings I had growing up. I was so disconnected. I remember feeling like I was just watching myself like a movie, not fully there but just going with the motions… Life was blurry. I barely had memories of my childhood, large chunks of my life were completely dark. Safe to say, I was traumatized, fragmented and asleep. My shadow and the unconscious parts of me controlled my life like a loop, and I remained completely oblivious.
When we decided to take Dad home for hospice care, we took turns watching over him and taking care of him. Since we didn’t have much of a relationship, and rarely had quality time together, I appreciated being able to care for him and just be with him. I would sleep next to him on the couch and listen to him mutter all kinds of nonsensical things he needed to do. Still, on his last days, all he cared about was work.
One day, we administered a medicine that caused him to lose a big chunk of his consciousness and his ability to speak. That was really hard to watch. He wanted to communicate with us and tried so hard to get something across to us, attempting to spell it out with his fingers… but we couldn't make out what he was trying to say. It broke my heart. I realized in that moment, we never got a chance to truly communicate. I knew nothing about this human I called my dad, other than the fact that his parents died when he was really young and he toiled endlessly to make something of himself. I was filled with empathy and compassion every time I considered his life’s journey.
Prior to his diagnosis, I always told myself that one day, I’ll make him proud and we’ll have a stronger father/daughter relationship. It felt like I would never get that chance, and that I failed him. As I sat near his bedside, I did my best to pour my heart out to him, before it was too late.
Hospice lasted no more than a week. Something took over me in the remaining hours, and I essentially became my father’s death doula. Administering his medicine, washing him, tending to all his needs. We were told by the hospice nurse that the time was near, and we all gathered next to his bed and said our goodbyes. We told him that we’ll be okay. He can let go and be at peace. We all held each other and watched as he took his last breath, on October 14, 2011 at 3:37pm.
My mom is part of a Buddhist group, a community of dedicated members that will gather at the deceased’s house to pray and chant for 8 hours straight. We were delirious and had barely processed what happened, but I remember feeling so lifted. Dad was covered in a golden sheet, and after those mystical 8 hours, we took off the sheet and he was glowing and smiling. I helped wash him and got him changed, and his body was still completely malleable! It felt like a miracle. High vibrations of love and peace encapsulated us.
I’m not sure exactly when the phenomenon of my spiritual awakening took place but in the hours, days and months that followed my dad’s passing, I felt like a completely different person. I was utterly blissed out, at peace, so content, and filled with lightness and levity. It was the complete opposite of how I had been feeling most of my life.
My dad’s passing felt like a profound blessing, it jolted me awake to what truly mattered. The fog of depression dissipated and I felt whole for the first time in my life. This was without a doubt, one of the most pivotal moments that changed the course of my life. I could never go back to sleep, not fully anyway. It was the start of my very own Hero’s Journey.
I thought I was going to stay in this state forever, but eventually, that blissful state of Oneness started to fade away after a few months. It makes sense, as all the unintegrated parts of me were still that — unintegrated. I hadn’t done any of the work to heal myself and stay at that frequency. That’s the reason why I’m so passionate about healing in an embodied way and taking a very grounded approach. I now understand that we make quantum leaps when we are able to meet ourselves in the depths of our humanity.
Post awakening, I spent much of the subsequent years devoted to expanding my consciousness, healing and spirituality (although there were many dark nights of the soul phases where I felt completely lost). I backpacked all over India, Nepal & SE Asia. I did multiple 10-day vipassana meditation retreats. I sat with grandmother Ayahuasca and other plant medicines. I was so dedicated to my spiritual path. My path has led me to becoming a Reiki master, a certified yoga teacher, a massage therapist. I’ve become certified in numerous energy healing and coaching programs. I was yearning so deeply to know and fulfill my purpose and mission on Earth.
In 2020, I experienced an ego-shattering kundalini awakening that radically altered my life. I started honing in on my gifts as an intuitive/light language channel/energy worker, and I was told I needed to heal with my hands. I also starting becoming more experienced in shadow and integration work in my own life while helping others with their process. It has been a very challenging yet rewarding journey.
I’m learning that for me, the sharing process is a integral part of integration. So, I’m sitting here writing this story a decade after my dad passed. I didn't plan it, but I just realized today, it's been exactly a decade since this ineffable experience happened to me. I've never really tried writing about it because I would just write it off as that — ineffable. How can words describe such an indescribable experience? And I realized, that's what our whole human experience is about — to give expression to our wild, beautiful and messy human experiences while incarnated in form. It’s a magical and special thing to share our story. And it’s one of the main reasons why I’m here.
To be continued…
Thank you for reading.
With love & gratitude,
Eya