“When You’re Prepared to Die, You Live Better”: The Story Behind Deathwishes

About a decade ago, Hayley Hughes sat with one of her first hospice patients and witnessed a moment that would change her life forever.

The man—gentle, wise, and very near death—had asked Hayley to help him complete his hospice paperwork. His wife and daughter waited outside while he calmly signed every form. When it was done, he called them in. His daughter curled onto his lap like a little girl. His wife pressed her head to his chest. And as Willie Nelson’s “Angels Flying Too Close to the Ground” played in the background, he looked at them both and said, “My life, it has been such a gift. Knowing each of you is the greatest gift.”

Moments later, he died.

“It was heart-wrenching and inspiring. Soul-crushing and beautiful,” Hayley recalls. “It was everything I had feared about death—and everything I had hoped.”

In that room, Hayley didn’t just witness a good death. She witnessed the power of clarity. Of peace. Of having nothing left unsaid. And she made a commitment that day—to live more deliberately, and to help others do the same.

Hayley Hughes is a mother of two, a hospice executive, certified Death Doula, amateur ornithologist, scuba diver, regular live music patron, and a woman with a deep respect for both the facts and poetry of death. After decades in end-of-life care, Hayley saw the same pattern again and again: people unsure what mattered, families left guessing, goodbyes missed.

Then, her own grandmother—Henrietta—called. Lucid for the first time in weeks, she asked Hayley and her children to visit. “She needed to say goodbye,” Hayley says. And she did. She met her great-granddaughter for the first and last time, gave treasured gifts, and passed peacefully days later.

Hayley had seen both ends of the spectrum. But she knew most people never got a moment like that.

“Most deaths don’t come with closure,” she says. “They’re drawn out, or they’re sudden. There’s no great monologue. There’s just the mess of real life.”

That’s why Hayley created Deathwishes—a space built to hold the words, wishes, and reflections we often leave unsaid, offering people a chance to express what matters most, even if they never get the opportunity to say it aloud.

A space to pass on stories, objects, music, and meaning. To let your people know what matters. And to leave behind something that actually reflects who you are.

Deathwishes isn’t a legal will. It’s also not a stack of sterile medical forms. It’s a practical and personal platform for sharing your real-life wishes—while you still can.

“I’m not a guru,” Hayley says. “I’m a person who understands that when you’re prepared to die, you live better.”