The True and Healing Story of Cindy's Death

I’d like to die at L’Arche.

I said that to someone recently and the words at first surprised me. They sound so blunt, but they are true. I can’t imagine a better place or way to die than what I witnessed with core member Cindy Skarvold who passed away August 30, 2025. 

Kaitlyn and Cindy outside Hopespring

Cindy began living at Hopespring 10 years ago. Hopespring is one of the three houses that are a part of the community that makes up L’Arche Tahoma Hope (LTH). This community is located in between Tacoma and Puyallup in the middle of Washington. Cindy is and was one of the 16 core members, the people with intellectual and developmental disabilities who live in the homes and are at the center of the community. LTH also has a Welcome Center where people from the wider community come to connect with one another, and a farm where people of all abilities come together to work outside with plants of many different varieties. 

I do not work directly in the homes so I often do not know the details of what is happening with health concerns. I only learned that Cindy was not well when I heard she was in the hospital. Shortly after that, I was surprised and dismayed to learn that she was coming home to enter hospice care on Tuesday, August 26. 

At first, I was reluctant to go see Cindy. I have witnessed the deaths of three of my closest family members in hospice care, or some form of it. I was worried that I would not be able to be there for her. That my memories of those earlier deaths would get all tangled up with the experience she and her loved ones were having. I worried that another experience like that would crush me and that I would do Cindy a disservice by making the attempt.

I was wrong. 

Instead, I found that walking into the home was an incredible moment. There were many people coming and going. Some lived and worked there. Some were visiting Cindy in her final days and taking a moment to be with her. 

Cindy in one of her many costumes

Cindy with a crown of flowers

Kindess and Cindy

Cindy smiling with a baby goat

Cindy and Debbie at Target

Cindy and her sister Pam

Cindy and Irene on Valentine's Day

Cindy and Stacy in a kitchen

Les and Cindy in Seahawks gear

Cindy and housemate Sharilynn

Cindy in her Mardi Gras finest

One of my friends sings in a Threshold Choir chapter. Beth offered to bring a small group to sing to Cindy at her bedside, and the residential director agreed to the idea. On Friday afternoon we met and the group of three sang in three part harmony. They sang soft songs about not being alone and about angels being near. We had told the choir that Cindy liked Elvis, so they also sang  “Love Me Tender." 

Cindy, Nancy, and a friend at the Welcome Center

I cried quietly along with others in the room while Cindy’s sister Pam stood next to the bed and held her hand.

Another core member named Nancy rolled in on her wheelchair and waved at me. I took Nancy's hand and felt her incredibly soft skin beneath my own fingers. 

After that, those caring for Cindy decided to restrict visitation to help Cindy and others in the house settle. The house coordinator later told us that Cindy’s spirit seemed to relax after the singing, and she passed away late Saturday night. The people in the house made sure she was dressed in her favorite Seahawks jersey and walked her out, singing again as the funeral home came to collect her. 

Sunday night we held a community vigil for Cindy with candles. People there told stories of her death along with tales of her vibrant and full life. 

I don’t want to think of my own death much, but I am keenly aware that I will die one day like everyone else. Often I hope that it will be quick and sudden so I won’t have to linger and my loved ones won’t need to watch me suffer. But if I do die in a hospice sort of setting, I honestly hope my death is very much like Cindy’s was at L’Arche Tahoma Hope.