What death doulas can teach us about dying well without religion

[GiqueCee]

9. I was raised...

... by an über-religious mother. Not the kind we associate with the term today; she was kind, for the most part, apart from her not-so-well-hidden resentment of me as the reason she had to get married, but desperate to believe in anything but herself, as she was systematically indoctrinated to accept.
I'm pushing 80, and harbor no illusions of much life left to me now, never mind in an imaginary hereafter. That's just the way it is, and I'm cool with that. What I'm not cool with are the lies that manipulative zealots tell to insinuate themselves into one of the most intimate moments we have with those loved ones who might want to be with us in our waning hours. I want none of that.
Sorry; this post just triggered something I've been thinking about a lot lately.