My name is Sarah Savoy and I’m a born and bred Vancouverite. I grew up in the forested hills of the North Shore and now reside in East Vancouver. I am a mother, a daughter, a sister, a wife, a friend.

My path to becoming an End-of-Life Doula came about from a confluence of circumstances. After 13 years as a boutique owner, I found myself at a transition point, seeking new and purposeful work that allowed me to connect with people on a heart level. Around the same time, I reached the age my mother was when she was in the throes of battling oral cancer - an illness she died of three days after her 56th birthday. Being so much like my mom in many ways (not only do I look like her, but I have her cooking skills, sportiness, and love of fashion), I couldn’t help but think of my own mortality. Will I get sick “out of the blue”, too? Will I make it to my next birthday? Like her, will I not live to see my child grow to adulthood?

Alongside my years in retail, my professional life has included work as an interior designer and eight years as a yoga teacher. Both roles taught me how much our environments and the somatic experience of our bodies can shape how we meet stress and cope with change - something I naturally carry into my work as a doula.

It was the intersection of my heightened sense of life’s vulnerability, and a long-standing practice of compassionate, human-centred work, that drew me to become an end-of-life doula. If I could serve people and their families in their last days and lessen any fear, confusion and overwhelm, what important and much needed work this would be.

Looking back, I was the child who buried dead birds I found in my yard – digging a grave, lining it with leaves, then marking it with a stone. Even as a kid, I was drawn to quiet, reflective spaces - a few times wandering into an empty church during off hours, not out of faith, but for the stillness and the calm. As an adult, I seek out cemeteries when I travel as places to reflect on life and the imagined stories of those buried there. I’ve long recognized our mortality and felt something profoundly meaningful in the way a life comes to its close.

I’m also passionate about educating and pushing back against our death avoidant culture. I believe there’s a quiet, growing movement to normalize death and face the certainty of it with courage and openness – I’d like to be a part of it.

My goal is to serve with deep care and lovingkindness; to hold space for tears, silence, and stories; to advocate for people so their wishes become reality; to companion the dying through their final chapter in the many ways it unfolds.

I do this work in honour of my mother, Ruby. She died at home surrounded by her family. It was quiet, sad, peaceful, and sacred.