The Enneagram as a Tool for Understanding How We Cope with Death and Dying

"Doesn't working with the dying depress you?"

I am asked this a lot and am surprised by how many people describe death as macabre, dark, and ugly. And yet, I was one of them too, until I became a death doula.

As we age, we experience an increase in firsthand encounters with death; parents, friends, colleagues, spouses, and even ourselves will quietly accept that there is no ultimate evasion, and we begin to peacefully lean into our own mortality with quiet acceptance.

From my perspective, life is a tug-of-war. Sometimes, pulling with all our might can slow down the timeline, (eating well, exercising, seeking joy, drinking plenty of water, wearing sunscreen, getting plenty of rest). But sometimes the tug on the other end can catapult us forward as we receive a diagnosis of cancer, Alzheimers, or a plethora of unimaginable co-morbidities.

A few steps forward, one step back. One step forward, many steps back.

As we witness, the planning and anticipation that goes into preparing for birth is a joyful ritual that coalesces in celebration of a new soul. Entering the world without expectations, our youth are nurtured to be excellent stewards of what they can influence. We teach them kindness, resilience, and empathy. We teach them to contribute in meaningful ways that will result in breathtaking inventions, art, literature, music, conversations, and humor. And all along while we're busy living, we cavalierly recite the mantra, "live long and prosper" as if we understood that being human is an incredible privilege that we won't take for granted.

Yet, at death we are armed with a lifetime of knowledge and experiences that remove the anticipatory mystery of our hopeful lives. At our death, there is a chronology of moments, accomplishments, and experiences that have woven our tapestry together, and where our beloved can turn and nod with affirmation in knowing we were true. Given that there is much less mystery in death than there is in birth, I say we should prepare for death (our own, and others') with a glad heart and willing (if not excited) acceptance - surrendering to the peaceful inevitability of our mortality.

One of the many paths I’ve explored to better understand how individuals cope with death is the Enneagram — a tool I first encountered decades ago and now carry with me in both my personal and professional life. At its core, the Enneagram helps illuminate the deeply human ways we seek safety, love, meaning, control, peace, and connection. In end-of-life work, those patterns often become especially visible.

Some people need information and autonomy. Others need reassurance, beauty, humor, emotional honesty, spiritual grounding, or simply permission to rest. Understanding these differences allows me to meet people more compassionately, not according to who I think they should be in death, but according to who they truly are in life.

• Type 1 — The Reformer

Wants to die with integrity, dignity, and loose ends handled. Finds comfort in preparation, ethics, and knowing things were done “well.”

• Type 2 — The Helper

Focuses on caring for everyone else, sometimes struggling to receive care themselves. Needs warmth, affection, and reassurance that they are deeply loved.

• Type 3 — The Achiever

May wrestle with losing productivity or identity through illness and decline. Needs to feel valued for who they are, not just what they accomplished.

• Type 4 — The Individualist

Often engages deeply with grief, meaning, and emotional truth. Finds comfort in authenticity, beauty, symbolism, and heartfelt connection.

• Type 5 — The Investigator

Approaches death through understanding, information, and privacy. Needs honesty, space, competence, and a sense of autonomy.

• Type 6 — The Loyalist

May alternate between preparing intensely and fearing the unknown. Needs trust, reassurance, consistency, and dependable support.

• Type 7 — The Enthusiast

Tends to avoid pain or heaviness by focusing on positivity or distraction. Finds comfort in hope, humor, freedom, and meaningful experiences.

• Type 8 — The Challenger

Faces death directly but may resist vulnerability or dependence. Needs honesty, respect, choices, and a strong sense of control.

• Type 9 — The Peacemaker

Often seeks calm acceptance and emotional harmony around dying. Needs peace, gentleness, spiritual connection, and encouragement to voice their wishes.

As a death doula, I have come to believe that dying is not the opposite of living. It is the final expression of it. The same personalities, fears, hopes, wounds, strengths, and stories that shape our lives accompany us to the threshold of death. And when we are willing to approach that threshold without looking away — with preparation instead of avoidance, curiosity instead of fear, and presence instead of denial — death loses some of its darkness. What remains is something far more human: tenderness, honesty, surrender, love, and the extraordinary privilege of having lived at all.