Pat didn’t plan to give two massages in a row that day.
As a trained massage therapist and Death Doula with more than a decade of hospice volunteer experience, she had done this many times before. But what happened that day still touches her.
“There was a woman at Hospice House who asked for a massage. So, I gave her a full-body massage. I worked on her arms, her legs, her back, her head. She said, ‘Oh, that feels so wonderful.’ It brought her such comfort that I started all over again,” she recalls.
“Later, I learned that she passed away peacefully a day or so after my time with her,” she hesitates. “To be able to bring pleasure to someone at the end of her life was deeply rewarding for me.”
It’s hard to imagine a more intimate way to serve another human being. Yet for Pat, one of about 200 active volunteers at Hospice of the Piedmont, it’s precisely this closeness—this willingness to show up in a person’s final hours—that makes hospice volunteering feel, in her words, “like painting.” Just as an artist adjusts each brushstroke in response to the canvas, a hospice volunteer must constantly adapt, read the room, and decide how to offer comfort without overstepping boundaries.
Behind the Scenes: What Hospice Volunteering Really Looks Like
Volunteers at Hospice of the Piedmont go everywhere and touch every aspect of hospice care, from administrative help to grief support to patient visits. They drive to rural homes and downtown apartments, to assisted living communities and expansive farms, to kitchen tables and hospice bedsides. And when they arrive, they enter lives that may be wildly different from their own.
“I have a much broader sense of how people live because I’m coming in as a volunteer,” Pat says. “There are people I would never have met otherwise. They may hold different political views or come from different socioeconomic backgrounds. I’ve had to step over things because there was so much stuff and animals on the floor—and the people were wonderful. Then, sometimes, I go into a mansion where there are things that I would never have, and I’m equally well received. It’s just an interesting study about how people live, how people adjust to illness, and the variety of different ways people are willing to speak about this process—or not.”
Hospice work dissolves the usual social divisions. In the presence of death, we’re simply human—vulnerable, hopeful, sometimes afraid, sometimes at peace.
Traci, a relatively new volunteer, sees hospice as a force that transcends all those superficial boundaries. “Culturally, death is kind of hidden. People don’t talk about it because of fear or whatever,” she says. “But I think hospice is basically a uniter for everybody that’s involved. Death is acknowledged, and it’s dignified.”
In other words, no matter who you are, where you live, or what you believe, death puts us all on an equal footing. And because hospice care happens anywhere it’s needed—whether there’s “stuff and animals” everywhere or a chandelier overhead—volunteers see humanity in its raw and humbling diversity.
A Different Kind of Volunteer Gig
Hospice volunteering isn’t something you dip into for a Saturday afternoon.
At Hospice of the Piedmont, volunteers complete 12 hours or more of training, learning everything from patient confidentiality to emotional boundaries and self-care.
Volunteer Manager
Mandy Foster leads HOP’s three-person volunteer department. “We invest a significant amount of time training new volunteers on various scenarios they may encounter. And of course, our department is always available to answer questions,” she says. “We want Volunteers to feel prepared and supported, so they can focus on being present with patients.”
Traci, who retired last year, says she was always the one in her family who talked openly about death. When the time came to devote her energy to something meaningful, hospice felt like a natural place to land. But she still had doubts—until she went on one of her first respite visits to support a patient and her son, who was caring for her.
“We were sitting inside, and I said to him, ‘You can go out, take a walk, do whatever you need.’ And he said, ‘I’d rather just sit and chat.’ And so we did,” Traci recalls. “He told me stories about his mom, his childhood, growing up—all the stuff that makes up a life. And as I was getting ready to leave, he said, ‘Thank you so much for listening. It’s been all about caregiving for so long. I haven’t had a chance to celebrate her life like that.’”
Traci pauses for a moment to collect her thoughts. “I felt like I wasn’t doing anything. But it meant the world to him.”
That’s the magical paradox of hospice volunteering: a small act can feel monumental to someone facing the end of a loved one’s life.
Graham’s Wake-Up Call: 80 Years Apart
At just 20 years old, Graham might not look like your typical hospice volunteer. A Charlottesville native and pre-med student at the University of Virginia, he originally signed up to gain real-world experience in healthcare. What he found was something far more instructive.
One day, while chatting with a patient at the Center for Acute Hospice Care, Graham realized they had both attended the same high school—just eight decades apart. That simple fact shifted his perspective.
Graham realized how easily we forget that older strangers were once young people with dreams and routines not so different from our own. “Without being super morbid,” he says, “we’ll all be here someday.”
Graham doesn’t provide clinical care, but he does a little of everything: stocking rooms, cleaning floors, visiting patients who haven’t had company in days. And he approaches even the most mundane tasks with care.
“I try to see it this way,” he explains. “Maybe this is the last room someone will ever be in, so I want to make it as clean and welcoming as possible.”
Traci puts it this way: “You really recognize the way daily chores—even the things that seem tedious—when someone is on their deathbed, they become more sanctified in a sense.”
When Just Being There Is Everything
Some of the most meaningful volunteer moments happen not with words but with presence. That’s especially true for the volunteers in Hospice of the Piedmont’s 11th Hour program, who sit with patients during their final hours.
“There was one person who didn’t have any family and didn’t want to be alone,” says Traci.
“When I first came into the room, I heard the oxygen machine pumping away. It seemed louder than normal,” she says. “I saw the person there, kind of frail. I sat down and was with them as they went through the process. I just concentrated on being there with them. It’s actually a very sacred moment – to be there with that person. Whether she felt my presence in her last moments… well, I believe she did. But, to be there and to help with that transition is remarkable.”
Moments like that are hard to forget. And they’re hard to come by anywhere else.
How Volunteers Are Supported
The work is tender. It’s also serious. Volunteers are an integral part of the interdisciplinary team, logging notes after visits and maintaining close communication with staff. But they’re not alone.
“Hospice has my back totally,” Pat says. They let me choose how long I want to serve and who I want to work with. There’s so much support. I feel very appreciated.”
Traci agrees. “I feel as prepared as possible. I know the volunteer team is always available, and if I’ve ever had a question, it was always answered quickly,” she says. “The support—the scaffolding for all this—is really solid.”
Graham concurs. “The staff here has effectively raised me,” he says with a grin. “They’ve made me feel confident and comfortable in any difficult situation.”
It Changes You
Every volunteer interviewed for this story described the same thing: a shift—a transformation in how they think about death—and how they choose to live.
Pat, who also trained as a Death Doula through Hospice of the Piedmont, says she’s more prepared now. She’s filled out the paperwork, written her own obituary, even taken inventory of how she wants to spend her remaining years.
“I have a lot more interest in living my life in a way that will make it easier for the people who follow me,” she says. “And actually, one of the ways I love spending my time is volunteering for hospice. It’s so fascinating and rewarding.”
Traci has experienced something similar.
“When people have a serious diagnosis, I notice how it changes the way they live their life and how they prioritize things. They shed things that they thought were a priority – some of the more materialistic things,” she says. “And being around that… it changes you. It makes you appreciate your own life in a different way.”
Thinking About Volunteering?
If you’re curious about hospice volunteering, take a cue from those who’ve done it.
“Do it,” Pat says. “You may be surprised how much you get back.”
Traci agrees. If visiting patients isn’t for you, there are many other ways to help. “Fundraising, special events, administrative work—it’s all important. And if you do go through the training and realize it’s not the right fit, that’s okay. Hospice understands that. But if it is for you? You’ll never forget it.”
To learn more about volunteering with Hospice of the Piedmont, visit our volunteer page.
