Private advance planning for the end of life. Not the legal documents, an attorney handles those. The room itself. Who's in it. What's said, and what isn't. What someone needs when they can no longer ask.
Most people with any resources have an estate plan, a will, and an advance directive. All three matter. None of them say a word about the last room you will ever be in.
An advance directive answers a physician's questions: resuscitation, intervention, life support. It is silent on everything else.
Most people find this gap at the worst possible hour, standing in the room with no time left. This practice asks the questions years earlier, while the answers are still yours to give.
Roughly six private sessions, usually across several months. The result is a custom bound book, reviewed each year as life changes, and delivered to the people who will need it in a form they can follow without guessing. It is physical on purpose: nothing about it lives online, and it is never published anywhere.
This work belongs to the healthy years: clear-headed, able to change your mind, able to sit with a hard question for a week. When a diagnosis has already arrived, the same work is compressed into weeks, with nothing left out and nothing costing more.
Every option offered carries a plain label about how much research supports it. Some things are well established. Some have no clinical evidence at all, and we say so while still offering them.
Some clients want a person at the bedside through the final days. We provide that person, for no more than two households at a time. Attention divided among many stops being attention.
No client stories, ever. No testimonials. Nothing about who has worked with us appears anywhere. What happens in that room belongs to the people in it.
A short guide to the questions worth answering while they are still hypothetical. Nothing to sign up for. If it's useful, use it. If you want to send it to someone, send it.
What an advance directive leaves out. Four things most people never hear until they're already in the room. A sample of the questions this work asks. How to choose who speaks for you, and what to do with your answers.
Read the guideDownload PDFI have spent more than fifteen years producing experiences for people who notice everything: Formula 1 weekends, invitation-only AI summits and dinners for C-suite executives, private luxury travel for ultra-high-net-worth clients, global events for a Fortune 500 technology company. My job has always been to see the detail before anyone else does and quietly handle it. It still is.
Early in that career, someone I loved died in hospice. I was the one in the room, and nothing had been planned. Not the light, not who should be there, not what they would have wanted said. I have spent the years since learning what that room needs, and why almost no one prepares for it.
This practice is the result: the care I have built a career on, turned toward the one occasion that gets none. I have sat in that chair, and I know how to plan a room.
Write and ask. There is no sequence of intake emails waiting, and no one will chase you if you go quiet. A single question, or asking where to find something the guide mentioned, is reason enough.
maria@Based in Austin, Texas · Working with clients globally