Hey there!
I'm Deltra, a patient advocate, poet, podcaster, and death doula living with Triple Negative Metastatic Breast Cancer.
With a dash of humor, vulnerability, and steady compassion, I support others in facing what feels impossible, offering presence, perspective, and practical care as they move through illness, loss, and the tender work of being human.
I received training through Village Deathcare's Community Deathcare Doula program, then deepened that learning as an apprentice. But my most profound understanding comes from walking this path in my own life, not simply studying death, but learning to live with it as a constant companion rather than just a concept.
Through cozy community events, creative workshops, courses, and speaking engagements, I invite people to reflect on what they value most, make time for what matters now, and approach life's impermanence with greater intention.
Whether I'm helping someone write an obituary, create a legacy project, facilitate a difficult conversation, or simply bear witness to their grief and anxieties, my mission is the same: to help people feel seen, safe, and sovereign, no matter where they are in their story.
I live in Connecticut with my daughters, a few cats who've mastered the art of comfort, probably too many teacups, and a collection of wigs worthy of their own memoir.
So why "The Good Grim?"
For many people, the Grim Reaper represents fear, endings, and something to avoid. I see something different. I believe there can be goodness in the grim; not because death itself is easy or welcome, but because acknowledging our mortality has the power to help us live more intentionally, love more deeply, and leave less unsaid.
The Good Grim is about making a difficult subject feel a little less frightening. It is about replacing silence with conversation, isolation with community, and fear with preparation, presence, and possibility. I believe we die better when we live well, and we live better when we are willing to talk about death. Those conversations become a little less scary when we have them together.
This work, this space, is my offering.
I hope it feels like a gentle place to land.
In loving, grateful memory of Bly
