Katherine: Language Beneath Words

Early in my work with death and dying, I was called to support a woman named Katherine.

Katherine was young, in her 40s, living with the long-term effects of a severe traumatic brain injury sustained in college. She was mostly paralyzed, blind, and nonverbal, requiring full-time, attentive care. Her mother reached out after enrolling her in hospice—a decision that did not come easily.

For 20 years, Katherine’s father had been her primary caregiver at home. His sudden death left the family with few options beyond institutional care. Katherine’s mother needed to continue working, and hoped I could visit Katherine for companionship, gently oversee her care, and support the family as they navigated both grief and transition.

I remember feeling nervous about connecting with a nonverbal client. (You may have noticed—I tend to rely on words!) How do we meet without language? Without eye contact? But this was my own limitation speaking.

Katherine had so much to teach me about connection! Of course, she could connect- I simply needed to listen differently. We all know this language, after all: the language of touch, of presence, of care.

So I began simply. Each visit, I would announce myself with the soft scent of Blue Tansy and a gentle hand on her wrist. I brushed her hair, rubbed lotion into her hands, stretched her limbs, and sang softly.

On my fourth visit, when I offered that familiar scent, Katherine broke into a wide, unmistakable smile.

My heart grew two sizes in that moment. The experience reminded me of being with my son when he was an infant—the quiet, wordless bond of tending to someone with love. There is a form of powerful communication that lives beneath language, and I truly believe Katherine felt it. I know I did!

In time, Katherine’s mother had a change of heart. She retired and brought Katherine back home, beginning her own journey into healing touch. It is my hope that they continue to find joy in their connection and healing in their togetherness.

May we all remember that love does not require words.
May we trust the quiet languages we already know.
And may we find our way back to one another, again and again.