10 Feb Woman Finds Meaning in the Garden of Life and Death

By Zoe Meyer

Andrea Sexton-Dumas wakes each morning to the sound of a familiar voice dulcetly singing: “Rise and shine and get out of bed, Andrea / I said, rise and shine, and get your butt out of bed for the Lord.”

It’s her mom, Bev.

But Bev died in 2003. And a decade before that, she had lost her ability to speak, let alone sing.

Now, in 2026, Bev’s voice often acts as Sexton-Dumas’ gentle morning alarm — and she still finds humor in her dutifully Catholic mom ordering her “butt out of bed for the Lord.”

Sexton-Dumas was born in West Oakland to two disabled parents, both diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. She was 8 when her dad, Mitchell, died from complications associated with the disease. Later that week, her Uncle Charles died.

Death and Sexton-Dumas became acquainted very early in her life.

At any age, death is impossible to comprehend. But at not even a decade old, it was a completely foreign concept.

“I didn’t know what grief was,” she said.

In her 20s, Sexton-Dumas was hit with a string of unbearable losses: At 22, her grandmother, Mother Dumas, died; at 24, her mom died; and at 26, her aunt, Ophelia, died.

“After seeing the life leave my mom’s body — for like a week or two — everywhere I went, everyone looked dead to me,” she said.

Sexton-Dumas recalled that around that time no one was naming or acknowledging grief. And without any means to process her pain, she moved to New York, numbing the ache with distance from home and alcohol. She believes that the first 26 years of her life, and the agony she experienced, was a byproduct of grief avoidance.

“When you become really close with death, you find ways to live better,” she said.

In 2007, she decided to do just that, returning to the Bay and moving in with her now-husband, Sean, completely revamping her life.

Shortly before the COVID-19 pandemic, Sexton-Dumas rescued a ridgeback Lab she named Churro — because he was “sweet and crunchy.”

During the pandemic, she was paralyzed by fear and dread and could barely eat. And on top of that, she was suffering from crippling endometriosis pain and ongoing infertility issues. Still, Churro needed to be walked every day, three times a day.

For the first few months of lockdown, Sexton-Dumas and Churro often basked side by side in the sun on her lawn and gazed at the tree overhead. A pair of great horned owls stared back at them, eyes wide and unblinking. Slowing down in this way helped Sexton-Dumas “attune to nature,” forging a stronger connection to her surroundings and herself.

In 2022, after a close friend of hers she called “Dragonfly” died from cancer, Sexton-Dumas decided to complete the Going with Grace End-of-Life Training program.

Having spent most of her life by her loved ones’ bedsides, this was a natural progression in her life.

“The work is new, but the experience is not,” Sexton-Dumas said.

After Churro died in 2024, shattering her, Sexton-Dumas began working with a hospice patient whom she worked with for two years up until she died late this January.

“Churro prepared me for my hospice patient,” she said. “I feel like he prepared me for the rest of my life.”

Now 47, and having endured a tremendous amount of loss, Sexton-Dumas refers to grief as a friend of hers. In fact, she and grief “hang so tough” that she found her calling in supporting others through loss. She refers to herself as a death and grief doula, grief gardener, and spiritual companion.

“The garden metaphor has really served me in my own grief experience,” Sexton-Dumas said. “We’re composting our feelings. We’re watching things bloom; we’re watching things die.”

A core part of Sexton-Dumas’ philosophy is allowing grief in and embracing it — living alongside it while channeling it to find deeper meaning in life.

“I’ve had friends tell me, ‘I won’t ever recover.’ Well, maybe you shouldn’t,” Sexton-Dumas said. “You will stop crying one day. I promise that will happen. But what would happen if you let grief change you?”

Death, she believes, is a possibility for all of us at any moment. A reality Sexton-Dumas uses as an opportunity to attack life, full-throttle.

She sees this idea of death awareness as particularly important during these perilous times in our country. “If you are really going to fight this administration, then babe, you gotta get comfortable with death,” she said. “Cause it might just cost you your life.”

Looking ahead, Sexton-Dumas hopes to “serve people in having a soulful death.”

In the meantime, she’ll continue tending to her “illegal” daffodils out front, planted against HOA guidelines. They are blooming and alive, marking the end of the dark days of winter and the continuing of life, grief and all.