Welcome to Second Half… an interview series exploring how people of all ages are thinking about the second half of their lives. This week, I’d like to introduce you to Niki DiGaetano, a death doula, writer, graphic designer, and founder of Numbered Days Death Care.
Name: Niki DiGaetano (aka Niki Elle)
Age: 30
Location: Salt Lake City, Utah
Relationship status: Engaged
Hobbies: Writing, running, rock climbing, weight lifting, playing classical guitar…badly
Personal or side projects: I’m writing a book about how my 900-mile Appalachian Trail hike helped me embrace my calling as a death doula, and how both taught me what it meant to live.
Occupation: Graphic designer, death doula, and aspiring clinical mental health therapist (coming 2029!).
Kids: No kids! I am child-free by choice; my death doula work and my (eventual) clinical work as a therapist are the callings of my soul. While I know many women—incredibly—manage to balance both a career and children, I don’t know if I’d be one of them. And what’s more important is I never felt a tug towards motherhood. Nothing in my heart leaps when I see a baby. Sometimes I wish I felt that desire… but I’m learning it’s okay that I don’t.
Who are you, and what should we know about you right off the bat?
Hi! I’m Niki! I love cats. And hiking. I once backpacked 900 miles on the Appalachian Trail, and it completely changed the trajectory of my life. I got up close and personal with end-of-life following an angst-ridden career crisis that resulted in me becoming a hospice volunteer, then a death doula (a support person for all things death and grief). I staunchly believe talking about death is crucial to our well-being. Not only is it practical (literally everyone will need to do it someday), but it’s a powerful way to cultivate gratitude, humility, and intention in this little thing we call Life.
Is there a part of yourself that you’re hoping to rediscover in your second half of life?
Honestly? Probably not. In a lot of ways, I’m growing further away from the person I used to be as a teenager and in my 20s… and I’m okay with that because she was kind of miserable! I like this version of myself a lot more: a woman who is calmer, more grounded, more confident. A woman who loves being alive. I’ve retained my endless drive and my fiery nature (those will probably never change!), but I’ve become less abrasive and polarizing in how I move through the world. Calmer, more gentle and approachable. And I like that.
What do you care less about now than you did 10 to 20 years ago?
Failing. I’m still nervous about it, but I’m way more likely to “just send it” and try than never do anything. Nowadays, what I fear more is regretting that I didn’t take a chance rather than simply trying and finding out I’m not cut out for it.
What do you care more about now than you did 10 to 20 years ago?
Conserving my energy and working in bursts rather than never-ending slogs. I try to honor my capacity more. If I notice I’m going extra hard, I’ll try my best to spend some time doing nothing: a full decompress. Hot tea in bed. A nice, brainless book (i.e., not related to death and grief literature). I guess it feels like a less glamorized version of “work hard, play hard.”
When you imagine a good life at 60, 70, or 80, what does it look and feel like?
That’s a very different question, depending on all those different decades! For 60 and 70, I’d like to have a small but lovely home, where I live with my wonderful husband.
We travel often and have had fruitful careers… we are both possibly still working part-time (he as an engineer, me as a therapist and doula). I hope to continue strength training and moving my body as much as possible. I still remember the white-bearded men and white-haired women my fiancé and I met on the Appalachian Trail. All were decades older than us. At the time, we were all hiking through Connecticut, but they had been trekking since Georgia, some 1,000+ miles ago.
I’d love for that to be us someday. When I’m in my 80s, I hope to have located a good death doula whom I trust to guide my husband and me through our final chapter. Since we don’t have children (maybe that will change, but we doubt it), I do think about who will care for us when we’re old and infirm. I hope having a doula around will help us be resourced when that time comes.
Have any major losses, disappointments, or life transitions changed how you think about your second half?
My grandfather, with whom I was close, died when I was seventeen. His death would eventually pave the way for my interest in working in end-of-life, but it was not enough to split my life into a “before” and “after.”
That happened in 2022, when everything I’d been chasing abruptly collapsed: a half-decade relationship, my housing, and all the plans I’d been laying.
What followed was my long Appalachian Trail walk, which helped me cement three things:
The relationship I’d contorted myself into complacency to preserve was long dead.
Contentment and presence could be cultivated anywhere, at any moment; I could be full of joy while hiking along the Trail and celebrate each time I reached a goal, like crossing the next state line.
I learned what it meant to truly, deeply love being alive. That journey helped me embody the teachings of death work that I’d learned years earlier but never fully embraced.
What are you no longer willing to postpone?
Feeling joyful. Celebrating little wins. I used to put off both in the endless pursuit of more achievements. Doing more hands-on death doula work in my local community (not just online); I’ve hidden behind imposter syndrome long enough.
What role do work, achievement, or ambition play in your life today compared to earlier chapters?
I’m still quite ambitious… maybe more than when I was a teenager. But the shape of my drive has shifted. It’s no longer all-consuming the way it used to be. My ambition to tell the whole world about death doulas, to educate and support my community, and to be a competent therapist no longer stands in the way of my own happiness. I can pursue those things while simultaneously living and celebrating each day… even the monotonous ones.
What have you learned about happiness that your younger self wouldn’t have understood?
That it’s okay, beautiful—required, even—to seek joy in the mundane, in the everyday. I’ve learned happiness does not live only on top of the next big milestone or achievement. Be happy where you are while pursuing those things… or get ready for years of misery while you refuse to be satisfied.
If the second half of life has a theme or guiding principle for you, what would it be?
Living with intention… and that can and will shift season to season. Being way nicer to myself! Being less of a rigid control freak.
What does growing older mean to you now?
It looks like befriending myself—becoming closer and closer to someone each day that I actually like being around.
For me, growing older inevitably includes thinking more and more about my own mortality. That’s probably a side effect of my doula work. I have to sit with the reality: Ten years ago, I was such a munchkin. 20 years old. Here I am at 30. What will I be like in 10 more years? I’ll be 40. Who will I be?
As the saying goes: I am one day closer to my death… how will I live this day?
What are you still trying to figure out?
At this very moment? How the hell I’m going to continue with my day job as a graphic designer (required to pay my bills) along with my upcoming master’s program in counseling (beginning in a few weeks), along with acting on a list of community death education projects. There’s a lot on my plate, and though I’m loving every second of it, I’m trying to reconcile everything I want to do with everything I’ll actually have time to do.
What belief about life have you changed your mind about?
That life is a prescriptive set of steps and rules. Success means very different things to different people. It means different things to me than it used to!
What are you trying to say “yes” to more these days?
My mentor turned me onto the concept of “Shoot Your Shot Wednesdays,” and I’ve leaned oh-so-hard into it! Basically, if my intuition (or an idea falls into my brain out of the sky) pings me with an idea, I act on it.
What if I reach out to that old contact? Text sent. How about offering to lead a grief workshop for the caretakers at my local animal shelter? Proposal written.
This would have terrified me when I was younger. Now I take more of a “Fuck it, let’s go!” approach. The worst they can say is no.
What are you trying to say “no” to more these days?
Pointless busywork that doesn’t get me any closer to my goals. Meetings at work that run overtime. Giving anyone my phone number. (You can contact me via email and that’s good enough; no one needs instant access to my attention.)
What are you learning to let go of?
The need to be perfect all the time. It’s a sticky one that refuses to let go! I have a feeling that I’m never good enough at my desired craft. And I need to release that and trust I can just Do The Thing.
What feels more urgent now than it did ten years ago?
Time with the people I love. Especially with those I don’t see as much, due to geographic separation. Maybe my death doula work warps my lens of time, but I feel an urgency to be with my loved ones.
And also moving my body. As someone with 2.5 desk jobs who just crash-landed into her 30’s, the reminder that I’m not invincible is ever-present. “Use it or lose it” sometimes blares through my mind when I think about preserving my physical capabilities.
What would make you look back and think, “I used my time well”?
I would want to know I lived my days with intention. I sleepwalked through much of my earlier years, living on autopilot, running on the hamster wheel. Whatever is the antithesis of autopilot is how I want to live the remainder of my life: Awake. Authentic. Full of life.
What do you hope people remember about you when you’re gone?
That if you were in my life, I loved you deeply, and I showed it. Often. That I had strong ideals and did my best each day to live them out. That I tried my best to leave this world a better place for my having existed briefly in it. There’s this line at the end of a song I love, “I just want to know that I did all I could with what I was given.”
Big thanks to Niki for taking the time to answer my questions, and as always, thanks for reading! Leave a comment or question for her below. 💬
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