Words matter. They can heal, confuse, comfort, or cause harm. When we dodge the hard ones, life doesn’t get easier—it gets confusing, painful, even absurd. Euphemisms don’t soften the blow; they muddy the message. I’d rather be clear. Here’s why.
If we can be that honest with kids, why do we trip over ourselves as adults? Why do we want to soften our message? Because of their reaction—or ours? I’m not in charge of how you react. I am in charge of being understood. Communication can be hard, but beating around the bush makes it worse. Just say the words. Am I always good about this? Nope. But good intentions and deliberate choices help.
Some words that were once common are now considered insensitive or taboo. That’s a different conversation (“when you know better, you do better”). But here’s the point: words carry power. Using them clearly—and with compassion—changes everything.
I’ve heard many times that the name of my company, Before the Casket, is too much. Too harsh. Startling. Off-putting. I’ve also heard it’s memorable, cheeky, accurate, and fits my personality. Both are true. It’s intentional. I’m not for everyone—and that’s okay.
Families have asked me to avoid the word hospice. “Don’t tell mom she’s dying.” Ummm, sir…do you think she doesn’t know? Because she knows. I get it—people fear that saying “hospice” means giving up hope. But here’s the truth: patients often live longer on hospice (Connor et al., 2007). They get more staff, more support, better symptom control, and care for the whole family. To me, avoiding the word only makes it scarier. Voldemort taught us this one: fear of the word increases fear of the thing itself. Say it, and the power shifts.
“Nursing home” is another loaded phrase. For decades it evoked the same dreary image: the smell, the drab paint, the vacant stares in wheelchairs. Technically accurate, yes—but respectful? Not at all. Today’s senior living communities are worlds apart. If you haven’t visited one lately, you might be surprised. Honestly? I’m ready to move in tomorrow.
During an overnight shift at an in-patient hospice house, I listened as a co-worker phoned the daughter of our patient to inform her of her mother's death. The daughter had been sleeping and my co-worker softly stated, “I'm sorry to tell you, but we lost your mom.” I could almost see and hear the daughter bolt up in bed and exclaim, “WHAT?! You lost her? Where? How did she get out? Did you call the police to help you look for her?” I closed my eyes as I listened to my co-worker backpedal by saying, “I'm so sorry. I mean, your mom is gone. She passed away. She died.” Words matter.
I am deliberate with my words. Maybe it comes from my love of language, or my English degree, or my years as a nurse. But wherever it comes from, it’s part of me—just like my blonde hair. I have a huge desire to help shift our culture from death-phobic to death-accepting.
So what words or phrases trigger you? Is there one you can shift? Take back the power of the word by using it out loud.
Words matter. Just say the words.