A Birthday Goodbye

Well, today is my birthday. I wish I felt like celebrating.

First, thank you to those of you who reached out after my last newsletter. I received the care...And I would love to say I had lighter news today, but life doesn’t always give us that.

Most of you know my dear sweet Penny. She is closer to me than my own mother, in fact we joke that I jumped out of her womb but found her again. She is the truest friend, the kind of person whose presence alone reminds you that you are powerful, that you are meant to grow—even when growth feels like breaking. We text all day, most days. She is my safe place.

This week, Penny lost her husband, Dennis Lyon. The man who stood beside her for nearly 60 years. The man who made terrible dad jokes while she fought for women’s rights. The man who just last week stood on a stage in San Diego, feeling like he "won the Super Bowl" for his life’s work in golf. And maybe that was all he needed—to be seen, to be honored—before he said goodbye.

It happened suddenly, and it shouldn’t have. An urgent care visit for the flu turned into a hospital visit. A hospital visit turned into a surgery Penny didn’t even understand. And then, he was gone. Just like that. Complications from surgery.

I am heartbroken for Penny. For their children and grandchildren. For the broken healthcare system that sends people where their insurance tells them to go instead of where they feel safe. For myself, I spent countless hours in their home learning what a 50-plus year relationship looks like, and I loved Dennis too. And honestly, for every person navigating grief without a Penny Lyon by their side.

Penny believes in doulas more than anyone I know. Her whole life has been about making sure more doulas exist, that more women—especially the ones who think they have to birth or grieve alone—get the support they deserve.

So today, on my birthday, I will sing loud for Dennis. I will wail for Penny, in case her voice isn't strong enough right now. I will cry for all of us.

And next weekend, I will teach more doulas. Because the work continues. Because love doesn’t stop. Because even in sorrow, we show up. If you've been on the fence, this is your sign to show up too.

I don’t have details yet on how to support Penny and her family, but I will share as soon as I do.

I know all of our doula hearts want to hold her and love her right now, but please be mindful of inundating her with too much love in her time of grief as well.

Sending love,

Geneva