Published on July 24, 2026
Care doesn’t keep business hours. Neither do the moments that matter most.
At Alive, every hour brings opportunities to care for patients and families in ways that go far beyond medicine. Sometimes that means managing pain in the middle of the night. Sometimes it means sitting quietly with a family as they share stories, wrestle with impossible decisions, or simply hold the hand of someone they love.
As part of Alive’s 24/7 Giving Day, we’re honored to share Sacred Spaces, an original poem written by Brooke Moore, a clinical liaison here at Alive. It offers a heartfelt reflection on the privilege of walking alongside patients and families during some of life’s most sacred moments.
We hope it offers a glimpse into the compassion, presence, and care your support makes possible—24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
Sacred Spaces
by Brooke Moore
I got to meet your family today.
Your husband, your wife, your son, and your daughter. Your brother, your mother, grandchildren, and father.
Everyone was there, you see. To talk and share your story with me.
They laughed and they cried and they stared with blank faces. They sobbed and they wailed, some were in angry places.
They don’t understand, they don’t want to be here. They thought they had more time, that you would always be near. And yet here they are unable to hear your voice. Sitting and contemplating this unbearable choice.
How do they honor you with the most dignity and grace. What’s the right answer? Choose this or choose that. How can they even think, what’s the right way to act?
And what am I doing while all this takes place? Watching and listening, giving plenty of space. Hearing and learning from your family, you see. Getting to know you, and your loved ones, all about your story.
I got to meet them everyone. To see their smiles, their tears, hear all about their love. Sharing their memories, their humor, their pain. Their sorrow, their joy, their disgust, their disdain.
How do they walk down this path of goodbye, to know they will never speak with you again, the pain is too high. And to think of what’s next, life without you, no way. It is all too much, too high a price to pay. So, I silently sit holding the quietest of places and remember I am amidst the most sacred of spaces.
There is so much to process, and yet so little time. Not wanting to let go, there is no reason, no rhyme. They don’t want you to suffer, but they don’t want to say goodbye. “Have we done enough, what more can we do, what else can we try?”
And so, I listen and nod, and I try not to cry. I assess, and I gauge, and I plan, and I try. Advocating, fighting, for your best possible goodbye. Getting you to a place where your pain is gone and you’re ready to fly. I will do everything in my power that your last final sigh….is the most comfortable sacred of places.
I am grateful and thankful to have been on this journey. It’s been up, it’s been down, it’s even been topsy turvey. But every moment is a blessing you see. For you, for your family, but especially me. To be part of your life, your family, your world, if only for a moment, as your story’s unfurled.
Now here you are in the last final hours. You’ve made it, you’re here, surrounded by love’s greatest powers. There is solace to know you’re wrapped in comfort, surrounded by love. As your spirit readies to take flight to the world up above. The moments that are seared on hearts for forever. Last touches, last kisses, last moments so tender.
I quietly step back because this moment is yours, a lifetime winds down on these earthly shores. Thank you for giving this beautiful blessing. To be trusted with your story, your love, and your presence. I’ll always remember your stories, your names, and your faces. Forever I’m changed by these sacred of spaces.