A Soft Touch

Touch is a primal form of communication for human beings, critical at both the beginning and end of life. ~ Sandra Lavengood

I vividly remember a weekend in school when we discussed palliative care and massage therapy. I recall telling my peers that this was work I never imagined I could do, nor saw myself incorporating into my practice.

During my practicum, I had the opportunity to work with a client who was living with cancer before her illness became terminal. When she passed, the experience deeply impacted me both personally and professionally—yet it still did not prepare me for my first end-of-life client.

Over the past few weeks, I have been processing the loss of that first palliative care client, holding space for both grief and gratitude. I feel called to share a piece of this experience—not only as part of my own healing, but as a reflection on the profound role of therapeutic touch—while always honouring the privacy of the client and their family.

A few months ago, I was asked to provide massage therapy to a client in a long-term care facility who was in the final stages of a terminal illness. I wasn’t sure if I could do it, but I chose to approach the opportunity with openness and curiosity, allowing it to unfold as it was meant to.

I was incredibly nervous before our first session. My mind was filled with questions—would the client trust me, would they be receptive to touch, how would I respond to being present with someone at the end of their life? I reminded myself to trust the process, knowing that this relationship was not obligated to continue if it wasn’t the right fit.

Just minutes into the first treatment, tears streamed down the client’s face. For the next thirty minutes, time seemed to stand still. I was profoundly moved by the power of gentle, intentional touch. Afterward, I sat alone in my car, tears flowing, trying to process what I had just experienced.

This work changed me in ways that are difficult to fully articulate. The words that resonate most are beauty, intention, therapeutic presence, and connection.

To show up and be present with someone at that stage of their journey is breathtakingly beautiful. Over the months, this client shared their wisdom, stories, and quiet moments with me—sometimes through laughter and conversation, other times through silence, accompanied only by soft music. Unlike traditional therapeutic massage, palliative care holds a different intention: offering gentle touch as a reminder that they are seen, tended to, and honoured.

As I write this, I know I am still processing what this experience has given me, and I’m unsure how it will shape my path moving forward. What I do know is this—touch is a primal connection, essential at both the beginning and the end of life.

With love and gratitude,

Shanda