David Golden
1928-2023
1928-2023
Reiki and Caregiving: A Journey of Love, Healing, and Transition
By Kathy Golden, Licensed Reiki Master Teacher
Caregiving is one of the most demanding and meaningful experiences we can be asked to step into. When my sister and I became primary caregivers for our father, who was living with rapidly progressing dementia, I had no idea how deeply the experience would shape me, emotionally, spiritually, and physically.
At the same time, it became a journey of connection unlike anything we had known before. Throughout those years, Reiki was not something I “used.” It was something I leaned into. It became a steady presence for me and a source of comfort and calm for my father. It carried us through moments of exhaustion, tenderness, frustration, and grace, and it continues to support me in my own healing after his passing.
The Realities of Caregiving
When we first began caring for my father, he was still fairly independent. He could get himself to bed, use the bathroom, and manage most daily tasks, though he sometimes needed help with things like buttoning clothes or remembering what to wear. As the dementia progressed, his frustration grew, especially around the loss of independence he had always valued.
Those early months required a constant balancing act, protecting his safety while honoring his dignity. There were moments of tension between us, moments where he resisted my help and I struggled with the emotional weight of stepping into a role neither of us had anticipated.
The exhaustion was real. My life became shaped around his needs, and there were days when I felt depleted beyond what I thought I could manage. During those times, Reiki grounded me. Holy Fire meditation, self-Reiki, and quietly activating Reiki during daily walks helped steady my nervous system and gave me the capacity to stay present when everything felt uncertain.
Meeting the Emotional Weight
Reiki supported me not only physically, but emotionally. Dementia took away my father’s “edit button,” and some of his words landed sharply. In those moments, Reiki helped me pause, soften, and respond with compassion instead of reacting from hurt.
As his condition advanced, Reiki became something we shared. Short chair sessions, sometimes only five or ten minutes, helped ease his agitation and confusion. Watching his body relax, watching his breath settle, reminded me why we were doing this, to honor his deepest wish to remain at home.
Those quiet moments of calm were gifts in the midst of a very demanding chapter.
A Deeper Spiritual Connection
One of the unexpected blessings of this journey was how Reiki deepened my relationship with my father. He was a devout Catholic, and although I had been raised in the Church, I had not practiced for many years. We spoke often about faith. I shared how Reiki felt, to me, like prayer, an intention toward healing, a way of being in relationship with the divine.
During one particularly lucid conversation, he said something that stayed with me:
“I was taught what to believe. You found your own way, and it feels more personal.”
That moment marked a shift. Reiki became a bridge between us, allowing a shared spiritual language that felt honest and intimate.
Walking Him Home
As my father approached the end of his life, Reiki helped us both prepare. Although deeply faithful, he struggled with the idea of life after death. His logical mind wanted certainty. We spoke daily about the soul, consciousness, and the possibility of something beyond the physical.
Over time, fear softened into curiosity. Eventually he said, “When I get there, I’d really like to see my mother.”
Those conversations brought lightness and even humor. He spoke of dancing the polka again with my mother, who had passed years earlier. The tone shifted from fear to anticipation.
A few weeks before his passing, during a Reiki Master class, I had a clear inner knowing. I saw myself telling him that when it was time, I would hold his hand and not let go until someone on the other side took it. When I shared this with him, he became teary and said, “I think that’s a really great idea.”
In his final moments, that is exactly what happened. My siblings and I held his hands as he transitioned. Reiki and prayer were present, quiet, steady, and loving, carrying us through a moment that was both heartbreaking and deeply peaceful.
After Caregiving
Reiki continued to support me after his death. Years of caregiving leave their mark, and I needed time and space to release grief, fatigue, and the parts of myself that had been set aside. Reiki helped me come back into my own body and life gently, without forcing resolution.
It brought comfort in knowing we honored his wish to remain at home and to leave this world surrounded by family. It also reminded me that our connection did not end with his last breath. Something essential remained.
Closing Reflection
Caregiving is layered, complex, and deeply human. For me, Reiki was the thread that held everything together. It supported my father’s comfort, helped guide his transition, and allowed me to recover and integrate after years of giving.
Reiki did not take the pain away. It created space for love, presence, and peace to exist alongside it. That is a gift I carry with me still.
By Kathy Golden, Licensed Reiki Master Teacher
Caregiving is one of the most demanding and meaningful experiences we can be asked to step into. When my sister and I became primary caregivers for our father, who was living with rapidly progressing dementia, I had no idea how deeply the experience would shape me, emotionally, spiritually, and physically.
At the same time, it became a journey of connection unlike anything we had known before. Throughout those years, Reiki was not something I “used.” It was something I leaned into. It became a steady presence for me and a source of comfort and calm for my father. It carried us through moments of exhaustion, tenderness, frustration, and grace, and it continues to support me in my own healing after his passing.
The Realities of Caregiving
When we first began caring for my father, he was still fairly independent. He could get himself to bed, use the bathroom, and manage most daily tasks, though he sometimes needed help with things like buttoning clothes or remembering what to wear. As the dementia progressed, his frustration grew, especially around the loss of independence he had always valued.
Those early months required a constant balancing act, protecting his safety while honoring his dignity. There were moments of tension between us, moments where he resisted my help and I struggled with the emotional weight of stepping into a role neither of us had anticipated.
The exhaustion was real. My life became shaped around his needs, and there were days when I felt depleted beyond what I thought I could manage. During those times, Reiki grounded me. Holy Fire meditation, self-Reiki, and quietly activating Reiki during daily walks helped steady my nervous system and gave me the capacity to stay present when everything felt uncertain.
Meeting the Emotional Weight
Reiki supported me not only physically, but emotionally. Dementia took away my father’s “edit button,” and some of his words landed sharply. In those moments, Reiki helped me pause, soften, and respond with compassion instead of reacting from hurt.
As his condition advanced, Reiki became something we shared. Short chair sessions, sometimes only five or ten minutes, helped ease his agitation and confusion. Watching his body relax, watching his breath settle, reminded me why we were doing this, to honor his deepest wish to remain at home.
Those quiet moments of calm were gifts in the midst of a very demanding chapter.
A Deeper Spiritual Connection
One of the unexpected blessings of this journey was how Reiki deepened my relationship with my father. He was a devout Catholic, and although I had been raised in the Church, I had not practiced for many years. We spoke often about faith. I shared how Reiki felt, to me, like prayer, an intention toward healing, a way of being in relationship with the divine.
During one particularly lucid conversation, he said something that stayed with me:
“I was taught what to believe. You found your own way, and it feels more personal.”
That moment marked a shift. Reiki became a bridge between us, allowing a shared spiritual language that felt honest and intimate.
Walking Him Home
As my father approached the end of his life, Reiki helped us both prepare. Although deeply faithful, he struggled with the idea of life after death. His logical mind wanted certainty. We spoke daily about the soul, consciousness, and the possibility of something beyond the physical.
Over time, fear softened into curiosity. Eventually he said, “When I get there, I’d really like to see my mother.”
Those conversations brought lightness and even humor. He spoke of dancing the polka again with my mother, who had passed years earlier. The tone shifted from fear to anticipation.
A few weeks before his passing, during a Reiki Master class, I had a clear inner knowing. I saw myself telling him that when it was time, I would hold his hand and not let go until someone on the other side took it. When I shared this with him, he became teary and said, “I think that’s a really great idea.”
In his final moments, that is exactly what happened. My siblings and I held his hands as he transitioned. Reiki and prayer were present, quiet, steady, and loving, carrying us through a moment that was both heartbreaking and deeply peaceful.
After Caregiving
Reiki continued to support me after his death. Years of caregiving leave their mark, and I needed time and space to release grief, fatigue, and the parts of myself that had been set aside. Reiki helped me come back into my own body and life gently, without forcing resolution.
It brought comfort in knowing we honored his wish to remain at home and to leave this world surrounded by family. It also reminded me that our connection did not end with his last breath. Something essential remained.
Closing Reflection
Caregiving is layered, complex, and deeply human. For me, Reiki was the thread that held everything together. It supported my father’s comfort, helped guide his transition, and allowed me to recover and integrate after years of giving.
Reiki did not take the pain away. It created space for love, presence, and peace to exist alongside it. That is a gift I carry with me still.