Walking Around Heaven All Day: A Personal Journey Toward Empowered End-of-Life Choices
By Gloria Thomas Anderson, PhD, LMSW
Founder and Program Lead, Let's Talk About ACP, Center for Practical Bioethics
“One of these mornings, it won’t be very long… You’re gonna look for me, and I’ll be gone. I’m going to a place where I’ll have nothing to do but just walk around, walk around heaven all day. I’m gonna sing and shout, and nobody will be able to put me out… we’ll just walk around, walk around heaven all day.”
This was more than just a line from Mahalia Jackson’s song, “Walk Around Heaven All Day.” It was a refrain my mother—whom we affectionately called “Momma”—lived by. I recall her singing passionately in the church choir and often humming this song in the kitchen while cooking her infamous soul food. Recently, a dream brought her back to me: I saw her joyfully singing that same song among souls who had also transitioned from this life, in what felt unmistakably like Heaven. That dream comforted me as a tender reminder of Momma’s enduring spirit after her passing.
A Life Defined by Resilience and Love
Momma (aka Miss Lil) passed away just shy of her 82nd birthday. In her final months, when illness took her voice, her invincible spirit still found ways to shine through. I’ll never forget those last moments in her hospice room. The wave of sorrow when she stopped breathing. The flicker of hope when she found the strength to take another breath. And finally, the quiet acceptance as her breaths grew shallow. It was a mix of anguish and relief—one last reflection of the challenges she had faced and overcome her entire life.
Momma’s story is one of resilience. She faced a tough childhood—losing her mother at just two years old and her twin brother at five. She endured abuse and survived the harsh realities of the 1930s. But she didn’t let those hardships define her. Instead, she rose above them, becoming a self-made businesswoman. She ran a beauty salon from home, cooked meals that brought people together, and made sure no one ever left her house hungry or sad. Through it all, she turned her struggles into a life of service and love.
Momma was just as decisive about her final wishes as she was in life. She and my dad planned ahead—buying burial plots, arranging their funerals, and most importantly, talking through and documenting her healthcare decisions. I remember sharing my book with her, The African American Spiritual and Ethical Guide to End of Life Care: What Y’all Gon’ Do With Me?, which I had written as part of my Master’s in Social Work thesis. It was meant to help people of color navigate their medical options. When she saw her picture on the cover, she looked surprised.
With her usual wit, she said, ‘Who gave you permission to use that picture of me?’ Before I could even answer, she read the subtitle out loud, then laughed and said, ‘Well… what y’all gon’ do with me?’ So, I asked her, ‘What do you want us to do if you can’t speak for yourself in a medical situation?’ She paused, let out a deep sigh, and thought for a moment. Then, she made it clear—if she couldn’t breathe on her own, she didn’t want to be kept alive artificially.
That simple conversation turned into a powerful discussion about her care goals. It led her to complete an advance directive, making sure her wishes for comfort care—not invasive, life-prolonging measures—would be honored. Even as her health declined, first from a devastating brain aneurysm and later a stroke, her decision gave our family something priceless: clarity and unity. When she passed peacefully in hospice care, we found comfort in knowing we had honored her wishes.
The Broader Lesson: The Importance of Advance Directives
As a social work educator and advance care planning (ACP) consultant, I’ve seen how end-of-life conversations can profoundly impact patients and families. Yet, many—especially those in communities with a history of healthcare disparities—hesitate to voice their wishes. Mistrust and fear of unequal treatment often result in patients not receiving the care they want.
Another barrier comes from clinicians themselves, some of whom view patients as the obstacle to these discussions. Research shows that ACP conversations are often avoided by clinicians who work with marginalized groups, non-native English speakers, and certain religious communities Understanding Disparities in ACP).
As a Black woman who has personally experienced racial disparities in healthcare, I know how crucial it is to take control of your own medical decisions. Too often, our voices go unheard, and our wishes are overlooked. That’s why it’s so important to have honest, heartfelt conversations with the people who matter most—those who love you and may one day have to speak on your behalf.
Talking about what you would want in a medical situation isn’t just about planning for the unknown—it’s about making sure your choices are respected, your dignity is upheld, and your loved ones aren’t left guessing in difficult moments. Taking that step is an act of self-advocacy, love, and empowerment.
My mother’s story is a powerful reminder of how much clear communication and planning truly matter. Because she took the time to document her wishes, her voice was heard—even when she could no longer speak for herself. Her decision gave her the dignity she deserved in her final moments. And for our family, it lifted the heavy burden of uncertainty. We didn’t have to guess or wonder—we knew what she wanted, and we were able to honor her wishes with love and confidence.
A Call to Action on National Healthcare Decisions Day
In times of uncertainty, one thing remains clear—the importance of making your healthcare wishes known. That’s why National Healthcare Decisions Day, observed every year on April 16, is such a crucial reminder. It’s a chance to pause and ask yourself two key questions:
- If I couldn’t speak for myself, what would I want?
- Who would I trust to speak for me?
Taking the time to have these conversations and complete your state’s advance directive forms isn’t just paperwork—it’s a gift to your loved ones. It ensures that, even in a crisis, your voice is heard and your wishes are honored.
I share Momma’s journey not just to honor her, but to inspire others to take action—to P.L.A.N., or Prepare for Life After Now. She showed me that resilience, love, and determination don’t just shape how we live, but also how we leave this world. Her final wishes were clear because she made the choice to have the conversation. That choice gave our family peace, knowing we were honoring her at the end of her life exactly as she wanted.
As you reflect on your own journey, I encourage you to do the same. If you haven’t already done so, talk with your loved ones and make your wishes known. Because in the end, the way we prepare today can help shape the dignity we experience in our tomorrow.
