Briefly Perfectly Human

Briefly Perfectly Human Plot Summary

Introduction

Death is perhaps the only certainty in life, yet it remains the most avoided topic in everyday conversation. Alua Arthur discovered her calling while sitting on a bus in Cuba, having a candid conversation about mortality with a woman named Jessica who had recently been diagnosed with terminal cancer. This pivotal encounter opened Arthur's eyes to the profound void in our society - the absence of guidance, support, and conversation around dying. A lawyer by training who had battled severe depression, Arthur found herself drawn to a path few would voluntarily choose: becoming a death doula, someone who helps others navigate their final journey. Arthur's story takes us through her transformation from a restless soul trapped in an unfulfilling legal career to a pioneer in the death wellness movement. Her journey illuminates how confronting mortality can paradoxically teach us how to live more authentically and purposefully. Through her work with the dying, Arthur discovered that life's most meaningful insights often come from those closest to the end. She invites readers to consider how acknowledging our finite existence might free us from societal expectations and enable us to create lives that feel true to our deepest selves. The wisdom she shares challenges us to ask: What must we do to be at peace with ourselves so that we may live presently and die gracefully?

Chapter 1: Confronting Mortality: The Near-Death Experience in Cuba

The car horn blasted, jolting Alua Arthur back to awareness just as her hands slammed against the hood of a red and yellow taxi in Trinidad, Cuba. The vehicle screeched to a halt mere inches from her body. In that heart-stopping moment, shock waves coursed through her as she faced a truth she had never truly contemplated before: her own mortality. Arthur had been distracted, her mind elsewhere as she crossed the busy morning street. She hadn't been paying attention to her life, literally and metaphorically. This near-miss with death sparked an uncomfortable realization. Arthur suddenly understood she didn't want to die on a street in Cuba, half-drunk with last night's makeup still on her face. She worried about disappointing her Ghanaian parents, about the embarrassment of being found in what her mother would consider inappropriate underwear. These seemingly trivial concerns revealed a deeper truth - she had been living without intention or purpose. Later that same day, Arthur met Jessica on a bus bound for Santiago de Cuba. Jessica, a woman in her mid-thirties with a red quill pen tattooed on her forearm, disclosed that she had uterine cancer and was traveling the world before she died. What struck Arthur most was not just Jessica's diagnosis, but her observation that no one - not her doctors, family, or friends - would actually talk with her about dying. They encouraged positivity and healing, but avoided the reality of her impending death. Arthur realized she could offer Jessica something rare: a willingness to engage honestly about mortality. For hours, they discussed what death might feel like, how Jessica envisioned herself on her deathbed, and what remained undone in her life. When Arthur asked Jessica who she saw herself becoming by the end of her life, Jessica described physical details - her scars, gray hair, tattoos - but also expressed regret for opportunities not taken, particularly her desire to write. This conversation sparked something in Jessica; she pulled out her notebook and began writing furiously, her eyes lighting up with purpose. In witnessing Jessica find meaning through confronting her mortality, Arthur experienced a profound awakening. The conversation had brought her more fully into the present moment than she had felt in years. Her body felt alive - eyes wide, heart open, breath measured, spirit engaged. Where previously she had been drifting through life, disconnected and depressed, talking about death had paradoxically reconnected her to living. This seemingly random encounter on a Cuban bus would ultimately redirect the entire course of her life, planting the seed for her future work as a death doula. As she parted ways with Jessica at the end of their journey, Arthur carried with her a new perspective. Facing death didn't have to be terrifying or morbid; it could be clarifying and even life-affirming. She began to understand that acknowledging mortality might be the very key to living authentically. This realization would continue to unfold in the years ahead, eventually leading her to abandon her legal career and embrace a completely different path - one that would bring her to the bedsides of the dying to help them find peace in their final moments.

Chapter 2: Finding Your Calling When Nothing Fits

For years, Alua Arthur had struggled to find her place in the world. Despite her impressive credentials - a law degree and a position at the Legal Aid Foundation of Los Angeles - she felt like a hexagon-shaped peg trying to fit into a lawyer-sized hole. Her sensitivity, creativity, and deep empathy for clients often put her at odds with the detached professionalism expected in legal practice. She wanted to hold clients' hands, cry with them, and love them into better situations, not just process their paperwork. Arthur's discomfort manifested physically. She bought drab "lawyer clothes" to fit in, pulled her locs back for court appearances, and removed her colorful nail polish for board meetings. She stifled her natural exuberance and style, trading pieces of her authenticity to conform to expectations. Each morning, she'd look in the mirror and wonder if she appeared "lawyer enough." But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't escape the feeling that she was wearing someone else's life. This mismatch between Arthur's true nature and her professional identity led to a deepening depression. She cycled through different practice areas at Legal Aid - from government benefits to domestic violence work to community economic development - hoping each change would bring fulfillment. She reduced her hours to part-time, creating space for travel and creative pursuits. She photographed weddings, explored distant countries, and sought experiences that might awaken her dulled senses. Yet the existential emptiness persisted, a hollowness that no adventure seemed able to fill. Arthur's supervisor at Legal Aid, Silvia Argueta, saw through her struggles. "Why are you a lawyer?" Silvia would ask repeatedly over the years. Arthur never had a convincing answer. The truth was uncomfortable: she'd become a lawyer because it seemed like the responsible choice for a "gifted" child, a path that would make her immigrant parents proud. She hadn't been brave enough to stop and understand what she truly wanted. While she genuinely cared about justice and helping others, the practice of law itself felt stifling. The breaking point came when budget cuts forced Arthur into a position at the courthouse Self-Help Center - a basement office she nicknamed "The Dungeon." With no windows, client contact, or flexibility, she felt her spirit withering. Each morning she woke up crying, dragged herself to work, and counted the days until she could escape. Eventually, she was granted medical leave for clinical depression. This crisis, painful as it was, created space for her to reconsider everything. It was during this period of profound uncertainty that the seeds planted in Cuba began to germinate. The path to becoming a death doula wasn't immediate or straightforward. After Peter's death (her brother-in-law), Arthur sought training at Sacred Crossings, an alternative funeral home and death education organization. She worked at a funeral home, volunteered at hospices, and absorbed knowledge from anyone in death-adjacent industries. Gradually, she built a business - Going with Grace - offering end-of-life planning and support. In this work, she finally found a perfect outlet for her natural empathy, communication skills, and ability to sit with difficult emotions - qualities that had made conventional legal practice so challenging.

Chapter 3: Loss and Transformation: Learning from Peter's Death

Peter Saint John entered Arthur's life when he began dating her older sister, Bozoma. Standing six-foot-four with an Irish-Italian background from Boston, he was gregarious, ambitious, and unlike anyone in Arthur's social circles. Despite their differences, they formed a close bond. He teased her mercilessly about her dating choices while encouraging her to never settle for less than she deserved. When Peter and Bozoma married, Arthur gained not just a brother-in-law but a devoted friend. Their relationship deepened through shared experiences of joy and grief. When Peter and Bozoma's first daughter, Eve, was stillborn in 2008, Arthur flew immediately to New York to support them. She witnessed their devastating loss and the dense grief that filled their small apartment. A year later, when their daughter Lael was born prematurely on Arthur's birthday, Peter joyfully declared the baby was Arthur's "birthday gift." This shared birthday created a special bond between Arthur and her niece. Everything changed in 2013 when Peter was diagnosed with Stage 4 Burkitt's lymphoma. The diagnosis came suddenly after he fainted at Lael's fourth birthday party. Arthur, who had been spending time with her mother during her cancer treatment, soon shifted her attention to Peter's rapidly progressing illness. She found herself naturally stepping into a supportive role, though she didn't yet have a name for what she was doing. During those difficult months, Arthur moved into Peter and Bozoma's apartment in New York, sleeping on their couch and providing practical support. She drove Peter to appointments, researched his condition, and cared for four-year-old Lael when Bozoma needed to be at the hospital. She became the bridge between Peter and the outside world, helping to manage visitors and creating moments of normalcy and humor amid the medical chaos. When possible, she and Peter would joke about his new "cyborg" status after doctors placed an Ommaya port in his head for chemotherapy. On December 11, 2013, after sitting vigil with the family for three days, Arthur witnessed Peter's final breath. She held his feet while his wife and mother held his hands - an intuitive positioning that she would later learn had significance in various spiritual traditions, where the soul is believed to exit through the feet or head. The finality of that moment struck her profoundly. From one breath to the next, Peter was gone. His body, which had housed an entire human life and the depth of their love, returned to matter. In the aftermath of Peter's death, Arthur found herself overwhelmed by the practical complexities of wrapping up someone's affairs. The family faced countless administrative hurdles: contacting credit card companies, closing accounts, locating documents, transferring titles. These tasks felt insurmountable in the midst of fresh grief. Arthur filled pages of sticky notes with to-do items, frustrated that there wasn't a guide or advocate to help navigate this territory. She wondered how people without support managed these challenges. This experience became the catalyst for Arthur's career change. If there was no one to call when a loved one died, she would become that person. Her anger at the system transformed into fuel for a new purpose. She realized she could use her legal background, compassion, and newly acquired understanding of death to support others through their most vulnerable moments. Peter had unwittingly taught her how to be a death doula, showing her that the end of life deserved as much attention and care as its beginning.

Chapter 4: Depression and the Journey Back to Self

Depression descended on Arthur like a wet velvet cloak, muting her connection to the world and draining her energy. What had once been a vibrant, curious life became a gray existence where even basic tasks felt insurmountable. Her apartment fell into disarray, with dirty dishes spilling onto countertops and floors. She withdrew from friends, unable to muster the energy for social interaction. Each morning, she would wake up crying, wondering how others managed to navigate daily life with such apparent ease. At the Legal Aid Foundation where she worked, Arthur's condition deteriorated to the point where she could barely function. After being transferred to a basement office she nicknamed "The Dungeon," she would arrive at work, put on a false smile, and count the minutes until she could leave. Eventually, she was granted a medical leave of absence for clinical depression. This official diagnosis validated what she had been experiencing, though Arthur herself had trouble accepting it. As the daughter of Ghanaian immigrants, she had internalized messages about strength and resilience that made vulnerability feel like failure. During her leave, Arthur stayed with her friend Kristin in Colorado. Her depleted state became apparent when she burst into tears over a missing shoe and when Kristin noticed how dramatically she had lost weight. Though Arthur initially resisted help, Kristin gently persisted - leaving detailed meal plans, offering comfortable clothing, and creating a safe environment. For Arthur, accepting this support required surrendering the "strong woman" facade she had maintained for so long. Each bite of food Kristin prepared felt like an admission of her inability to care for herself, yet it was also the beginning of healing. A turning point came when Arthur consumed psychedelic mushrooms during her stay in Colorado. The experience broke through her defenses and allowed her to confront painful truths. She realized she had constructed a life based on external expectations rather than authentic desires. Law had seemed like the responsible choice for a "gifted" child, a path that would make her immigrant parents proud. But the role had never suited her sensitive, creative nature. Through tears, she finally acknowledged she was "broken" - an admission that paradoxically created space for renewal. This breakdown became a breakthrough. Arthur began meditating regularly, reconnecting with her deeper self. She found herself drawn to research about Cuba, particularly the story of Elián González, which led to an intuitive decision to travel there despite her fragile state. When she encountered a man with a messenger bag emblazoned with "Cuba te espera" ("Cuba is waiting"), she took it as a sign. Though friends and family worried about her traveling alone while still recovering from depression, Arthur felt a magnetic pull toward the island. The journey to Cuba represented more than just another escape. This time, Arthur was moving toward something - a calling she couldn't yet articulate but could feel stirring within her. Her previous attempts to find fulfillment through travel, relationships, or career changes had failed because they were efforts to run from herself. Now, having faced her own emotional mortality through depression, she was ready to embrace the truth of who she was and what she needed. The seed planted during her first encounter with Jessica on a Cuban bus was about to bloom into a life purpose.

Chapter 5: Becoming a Death Doula: Creating Sacred Space

The path to becoming a death doula wasn't linear for Arthur. After her first transformative trip to Cuba, she enrolled in the Sacred Crossings Death Midwifery Program, completing the course exactly one year after Peter died. She immersed herself in books about death and dying, volunteered at hospices, and worked at an alternative funeral home to understand the logistical aspects of deathcare. Each experience built upon her natural abilities to hold space for difficult emotions and navigate complex situations with compassion. Arthur formalized her business, Going with Grace, in 2015 after a ten-day Vipassana silent meditation retreat where the name and structure dawned on her. Though she never considered herself business-minded and had been fired from every sales job she'd ever held, she found that death work didn't require convincing anyone of anything - it simply required sharing what was on her heart. Still, building a clientele proved challenging. She took meetings at hospices only to have doors shut in her face. She set up tables at death awareness events, handing out brochures she'd printed for $2 each, sometimes retrieving them from the trash when people discarded them after walking away. Her first client came through a referral from a couple she'd met at a Death Day event. This person paid double what Arthur had asked, showing her that the service had more value than she'd initially recognized. From there, word spread. She began hosting workshops every two weeks, speaking at churches, and gradually building a reputation. What had started as an intuitive response to a gap she'd observed in the care for the dying was evolving into a viable practice. Working with clients required Arthur to develop a unique set of skills. She learned to create sacred space for the dying and their families, helping them navigate both practical matters and existential questions. She established rituals for clients like Summer, a twenty-six-year-old with terminal breast cancer who wanted to be laid out at home after death with orange roses surrounding her. For Jack, an elderly man with bladder cancer who claimed he only wanted more opiates, Arthur recognized his deeper need to medicate the existential pain of facing death. One of Arthur's most challenging cases involved Justina, a well-known self-help guru. Despite having dozens of admirers who wanted to be present at her death, Justina confided to Arthur that she wanted only her six closest friends with her when she died. When the time came, Arthur found herself trying to maintain this boundary while managing a crowd of people determined to have their final moments with the dying woman. Though the situation became chaotic, Arthur succeeded in creating a space where Justina could die surrounded by those who knew her best. The emotional toll of death work sometimes left Arthur drained and questioning her abilities. After Justina's death, she returned home and sobbed, unable even to run a bath for herself. Her partner David came over, prepared the bath, made tea, and held her while she cried. Through this experience, Arthur learned another crucial aspect of death work: self-care. To continue supporting others through their most vulnerable moments, she needed to acknowledge and tend to her own needs. Despite these challenges, Arthur found profound fulfillment in death doula work. It utilized all parts of her that had felt stifled in her legal career - her emotional sensitivity, her comfort with the messy aspects of humanity, her ability to see the full three-dimensionality of life. Where law required black-and-white thinking, death work embraced the gray areas of human existence. Arthur had found her calling in what many would consider the most unlikely of places: at the bedsides of the dying.

Chapter 6: Identity and Authenticity in Life and Death

Identity shapes how we live and ultimately how we die. For Arthur, being Black, Ghanaian-American, female, and sensitive fundamentally influenced her experience in the world and her approach to death work. When her client Nancy, a 96-year-old white woman with Alzheimer's, suddenly asked "Are you Black?" with accusatory emphasis, Arthur confronted the reality that prejudice can persist even at life's end. Though initially shocked, she recognized this moment revealed an important truth: we don't all die the same way. Arthur came to understand that death and dying are culturally constructed processes that reflect social power dynamics. While everyone dies, the circumstances surrounding death are deeply unequal. White women live longer than Black women. Men die earlier than women. Poor people die younger than wealthy ones. These disparities follow us into our final moments, affecting everything from pain management to how our bodies are cared for after death. In deathcare, as in life, identity matters profoundly. This realization informed Arthur's practice as she worked to honor the fullness of each client's identity. When Ken, a vintage clothing store owner with terminal cancer, expressed his wish to be cremated wearing blue and purple glitter nail polish, Arthur advocated fiercely on his behalf. Though Ken's family had discouraged his gender expression throughout his illness, Arthur ensured that at least this final wish would be honored. She understood that acknowledging someone's complete identity in death is a form of respect that many marginalized individuals are denied in life. Arthur's own journey toward authenticity paralleled her death work. Throughout her legal career, she had suppressed her natural exuberance, creativity, and style to conform to professional expectations. She wore drab suits, pulled her locs back, and modulated her voice in court. In death work, however, she found freedom to be fully herself - "lapis lazuli and lamé" rather than "lavender and lace." Her distinctive appearance, with dreadlocks adorned with gold strings and cowrie shells, multiple piercings, and colorful clothes, became part of what made clients feel they could be authentic with her. The urge to hide parts of ourselves doesn't disappear at the end of life. Arthur witnessed clients like Summer, a young woman dying of breast cancer, struggle with contradictory feelings about religion. Raised evangelical but having rejected Christianity as an adult, Summer wondered in her final days if she should be baptized "just in case." Arthur supported her through this decision without judgment, recognizing that authenticity sometimes means acknowledging our contradictions and fears. Perhaps the most poignant lesson Arthur learned about identity came from Ms. Bobbie, a 94-year-old former traveling nurse. Over months of visits, Ms. Bobbie shared stories of her unconventional life - her four divorces, her travels abroad when most Black Americans couldn't, the neighborhoods she helped integrate. When Arthur asked if her life made sense to her, Ms. Bobbie replied, "Baby, I ain't figured shit out. My life was so messy. And I wouldn't change a goddamned thing." This declaration of authentic messiness, offered without apology, embodied exactly what Arthur hoped to help clients achieve: acceptance of their whole selves at life's end. Through these experiences, Arthur developed a philosophy that authenticity in death requires authenticity in life. When we deny parts of our identity - whether cultural, sexual, emotional, or spiritual - we create a burden that becomes especially heavy as we approach death. Conversely, when we live in alignment with our true selves, acknowledging all our complexities and contradictions, we lay the groundwork for a more peaceful ending. This is the gift Arthur strives to offer her clients: not just a good death, but the freedom to die as their complete, authentic selves.

Chapter 7: Honoring the Complete Human Experience

Arthur's work as a death doula has taught her that dying well requires embracing the full spectrum of human experience - not just the beautiful, transcendent moments, but also the messy, difficult, and sometimes ugly aspects of existence. When her client James revealed to his daughter Janet that he had five additional children she never knew about, Arthur found herself mediating between newly discovered siblings who needed to cooperate in their father's final care. The situation was fraught with hurt, anger, and resentment, yet it also created an opportunity for authentic connection as these half-siblings navigated their shared grief. Similarly, when Martha called Arthur after her son Sean died by suicide, Arthur helped her work through the complex emotions of this devastating loss. Society often stigmatizes suicide, making grief even more complicated for survivors. Arthur provided a non-judgmental space for Martha to process her feelings, emphasizing that Sean's death, though by his own hand, was still a death worthy of the grief, reverence, and honor we pay to other deaths. She helped Martha understand that mental illness, like physical illness, can be fatal - a perspective that offered some comfort amid the pain. In her practice, Arthur has encountered the full range of human complexity. She's worked with racist clients like Jack, whose hateful words tested her professional boundaries. She's supported people like Akua, who initially denied her terminal diagnosis and insisted God would heal her. She's guided family members through difficult decisions about life support and helped them understand the natural process of dying. Through it all, she's maintained a compassionate presence, recognizing that judgment has no place at the deathbed. Arthur's approach to death work is deeply influenced by her own life experiences. Her near-death experience in Cuba, her battle with depression, her struggles in an ill-fitting legal career - all taught her about the transformative power of embracing truth, even when painful. She brings this hard-won wisdom to her clients, encouraging them to face their mortality with honesty and to use that awareness to live more authentically. The lessons Arthur has learned from the dying have profoundly shaped her own life philosophy. From Dora, who questioned societal expectations about motherhood as she approached death, Arthur gained insight about following joy rather than fulfilling prescribed roles. From Summer, whose youth didn't spare her from cancer, she learned that age doesn't determine the completeness of a life. From Ms. Bobbie, whose unapologetic embrace of her "messy" life inspired Arthur, she discovered the freedom that comes from accepting one's unique path. Perhaps the most important lesson Arthur has gleaned from her work is that death gives meaning to life. Without the context of mortality, our choices and experiences would lack urgency and significance. By developing a relationship with death - not as a distant, feared event but as an inevitable part of existence - we gain clarity about what truly matters. This awareness doesn't diminish life; rather, it enriches it, allowing us to savor each moment more fully and to make choices aligned with our deepest values. In honoring the complete human experience, Arthur invites us to recognize that we are all complex beings worthy of love and acceptance. Our flaws, mistakes, and regrets are as much a part of our humanity as our achievements, joys, and triumphs. By acknowledging this wholeness in life, we prepare ourselves for a death that feels like a natural completion rather than an interrupted story. This is the gift Arthur offers through her work: not the elimination of death's pain, but the integration of that pain into a life fully lived.

Summary

At its heart, Alua Arthur's journey illuminates a profound paradox: confronting death can be the very key to living authentically. Through her transformation from a depressed lawyer to a pioneering death doula, Arthur discovered that our mortality provides the ultimate context for making meaningful choices. When we acknowledge that our time is finite, we gain clarity about what truly matters - not society's expectations or others' definitions of success, but the experiences, relationships, and expressions that resonate with our deepest selves. This recognition frees us to create lives that feel true and complete, so that when death eventually comes, we can meet it with a sense of readiness rather than regret. The wisdom Arthur has gleaned from accompanying countless individuals through their final transitions offers universal lessons for the living. She encourages us to speak honestly about death rather than avoiding the subject, to prioritize authenticity over conformity, and to embrace our whole selves - including the messy, contradictory, and imperfect aspects. By developing a relationship with our mortality through regular contemplation, we can refine our priorities and live more intentionally. Arthur's work reminds us that death is not just something that happens to us; it is something we do. And how we approach that ultimate transition reflects how we have chosen to live. For anyone seeking greater meaning, connection, or purpose, the unlikely path toward that goal may be through acknowledging the very reality most of us work hardest to deny.

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Alua Arthur

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