Good Mourning Grief

A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Month: March 2026

I Wasn’t Ready to Say Goodbye

March 29, 2026 /

Brooke Noel and Pamela Blair, two women who have experienced sudden loss, united to write a book for those grieving the sudden death of a loved one. It was a book on my shelf for awhile and as I was reading it recently, I thought, why was this not one of the first books I read. This book is a sharing of personal loss, explanations of the stages particular to a sudden death and resources to support the process of any loss.

The book begins with a short chapter of each author sharing their personal story.  Chapter two jumps right in to how you will be feeling, what you will need to do and most importantly the advice to help you survive. These tips are what I wish I had read in my early grief. For instance, the suggestion to delegate someone to answer or make calls on your behalf. I remember thinking I have a meeting the next day with a client I was mentoring and so I called this unsuspecting young man, who thought I was confirming our appointment, to which instead I am telling him my son was just killed.  I won’t make it. Why did I feel the need to call? Why couldn’t anyone else have done that for me- but who could I have delegated to call him with such horrible news. I mean it had just happened. Why couldn’t I have just not shown up.  He would have understood.  I didn’t want him thinking his mentor let him down. Good God….

The book includes how to handle special occasions, how to support your other children, your spouse and yourself. The chapters cover different losses and the particulars around such including the loss of a parent, the loss of a sibling and the loss of a child.   This chapter starts with “It has been said that there is no loss as devastating as the loss of a child…” I appreciated this statement as neither Brook nor Pamela’s loss was a child. I know we are told that ‘loss is loss’ but having two grieving women who experienced sudden death of a loved one to have written this statement gave validation to the depth of grief when it is your child. “It is a heartbreak like no other.” I couldn’t have said it better.

The book contains exercises to guide your healing including the benefits of screaming, writing, listening to music and visual meditations. My favorite was the idea of creating a ritual that you do as a group or alone. Our family has gathered every August, on Zane’s birthday, to drink, laugh, cry and share memories as a way of honoring his life and the impact he has on all of us. I hope we always do that. What I am going to create this year, is my own ritual. I was inspired by the stories of how a father chooses to go away each year and ‘walk with his son’ or the mother who asks for time alone. I think it is important for each of us to gather and celebrate our loved one but equally important to create a special moment with just you and your loved one. A ritual to honor this action might be healing.

The book has an appendix of matters from how to write the eulogy, a check list for the calls that need to be made, to support groups moving forward.  In its entirety, this book is beautifully written as a resource to offer the reader strength and hope. It is to be the book that you hold tight to and the book you share when loss arrives.  

Assuming There Are Blue Skies

March 22, 2026 /

The topic this week, in the care of my counselor, was about assumptions and perceptions and the role they play in our grief. I was sharing with her that friends and family members have told me I am too busy, that I am rushing from one thing to the next. I am frustrated by this because my assumption is that they believe I am not there for them. These thoughts increase my grief as I feel guilty that I am letting others down.

Perceptions are how we see the world. They are molded by one’s own experiences and beliefs. The philosophical example is that the sky is blue. It is on a sunny day. It is black when it is night. It is grey on a cloudy day. The sky is not always blue. The assumption that the sky is blue, is changed by experience.

We have no control over another’s perception. And yet we often make assumptions based on the view of another. I am told I am too busy. That is a perception created by my actions. The suggestion is I should slow down. I hear this but through my own perspective, it changes from slow down, to I’m letting you down.  The notion that I am unavailable did not come from them but from my own insecurities of what I want to do, am doing and what I think others want or expect of me.

Grief messes with our perception, the sky is not as blue as before.  Our assumptions follow.  We assume that people should know what to say to us. We assume our pain is visible. We replace trying to understand and to clarify with internal theories of our needs and wants are not being met. It becomes a dark cyclical way of thinking. Communication breaks down by holding on to a view of what we assume to be true. Assumptions are deceptive. 

We can eliminate or change assumptions by adjusting our outlook.  If my attitude was to revel in the luck that I can take on so much with a ‘hell yea, I am crazy busy’, then the narrative changes. I am recognizing their perception and squashing any assumptions that this is a negative for me.

Life is a kaleidoscope of never-ending perceptions. Assumptions are based on a combination of the perception, our attitude and the energy we have in that moment. We can alter our assumptions.  We can ask for clarification. We can lean in with curiosity of where that came from. We can try to understand another point of view. We can choose to search beyond the clouds for blue skies. We can choose to let go of the assumptions that cause us unnecessary grief.

A Snapshot in Time

March 15, 2026 /

I have had this theory in my work with youth that tattoos are a way of dealing with emotional pain. When Zane passed, I had a tattoo of his writing inked onto my inner forearm. I have had a new tattoo every year since. I have friends who had never considered a tattoo until their child passed. My daughter told me that your body is your canvas, it should tell your story. My canvas speaks of motherhood, life and happy times.

The tattoo of my third year living with grief was a line drawing of Zane, Payton and myself, from a photo of the three of us sitting in Mameo watching the sunset. I wanted this tattoo because it reminded me of the beautiful, peaceful summers my mother introduced us to. Quiet times of sunny days playing in the water or digging holes in the sand. Conversations of dreams and possibilities, where art, writing and photography filled the day. After mom passed, my sister and I continued going, taking the kids until they became old enough that interest was scattered and we stopped. My tattoo was my honoring those times. But something was amiss.

Since the original tattoo, I have asked for modifications and have never been satisfied with it. Then a friend suggested asking AI what I should do.  I laughed but thought I had nothing to lose. AI suggested adding flowers. I then went on a search to find a tattoo artist whose expertise was of such and found Sabrina.

Sabrina suggested adding flowers and adding other components of the original photo and redoing the figures in black.  Redoing???  It would take about two hours.  Two hours??? She saw the look on my face. “We could do it in two sessions.” I booked with that idea, paid my deposit and prayed that night that this was the answer to my woes of this unfinished tattoo.

When I arrived on the day of my appointment, I had yet to see her vision of what she wanted to do.  I was very nervous. Her sketch had the cloud lines added, more depth to the characters, a tiny sun and flowers, roses for Zane, sunflowers for Payton, and a peony for mom.  

The tattoo did take two hours, and we finished it in one sitting. My arm is red, sore, puffy and bruised.  It will take a couple weeks to heal. I am comfortable with all of that because it is the tattoo I wanted. I will now have a snapshot of one of my most favorite summers as a mother inked to forever remind me of that very special era.

I am living proof of my theory related to ‘inking’ when in pain, it’s not just for youth. I think that is why when we are grieving, the pain of the needle is bearable. It does not compare to the pain our heart feels. It is a distracting numbness that when completed shows a picture or a quote of love, of remembrance or a message of hope. It is a way of sharing our stories. My daughter was right; my body is becoming a canvas of my life history that reveals moments of my journey that I choose to hold tight to.

This Is It

March 8, 2026 /

I quietly honored my brother-in-law this week. It has been four years since he left for the other realm. I sent my sister a text letting her know I was thinking of her and how very fast the time goes.  And yet it doesn’t. It feels like I have missed him forever and yet the conversations at his bedside seem like yesterday.

It was a quiet afternoon, my sister was on her way to the hospital, I was there with Dan. All of us were aware that his passing was soon to be. I was holding his hand as he drifted in and out of sleep. At one point, he opened his eyes and turned to me. I squeezed his hand and he said, “well I guess this is it.” I replied, “yes, it is. Any final thoughts?” He paused, closed his eyes and then opened them, “I wish I had travelled more.”

Interesting what our last desires may be. He had travelled to sunny holiday destinations, to small northern Alberta towns, to beautiful forest campgrounds. He had travelled more than most. And yet travel seemed lacking in his life review. I wish I had pursued that with him, but the energy and the timing wasn’t available.

I did reassure him that his travels would continue. That soon, he would be body-free to go anywhere in the Universe of his choosing. That we would honor him on earth, taking his ashes with us as we travel to new places. He smiled at that idea, the concept that he would continue to be with us.  

Thus, he has gone on short trips to favorite spots. He has gone to Mexico, Vegas and as far as Iceland and Ireland last year. There are plans for him to visit Scotland soon. It is our way of honoring his last wishes. All these adventures have happened in the short span of four years.

When the date of his death came around this year, I had to recount to ensure it was four. Because of how much has happened, because of the vast changes since, how is it possible all that happened in such a short span. It felt heavy on me. Special occasions are like time nudging you. A teasing reminder of what was, a snide ‘what you going to do about it’ poke.

His comment, “…I guess this is it”, has never left my mind.

The anniversaries time carries within it gives permission to rewrite how we live each day. These dates are the catalyst to self-reviews, of where we are at, what we want to do more of with the unknown time we have left. It is also an opportunity to review how we remember our loved ones, what could we do new or more of or what might we stop. 

Time does fly. But it also lingers. In quiet moments, it slows down just enough that we can hear the desires of our heart. In thought, or in conversation, time gives us pauses to understand. And that understanding can bring action or acceptance or forgiveness. At the very least, it brings us ideas for how we can flourish before the inevitable arrival of our own “this is it.”

How to Discover Your Life Purpose by Dr. Jordan Blake

March 1, 2026 /

The last book I bought in January was to be a pre-read to setting goals for the year. I had thought I was reading it to strengthen what I already know about values, but Dr. Blake’s writings had me starting all over again. And, although not the intention of the book, what I adapted was a beautiful way to follow what matters when living with grief. 

He begins by telling the reader that purpose is not found (as most of us seek our purpose) but rather grown. “It’s not fixed. It evolves. It’s not a destination.”  He asks us to see our purpose as a tree that begins with a seed. Through thought-provoking exercises, he has the reader dream about life without fear, letting go of what was supposed to be, the expectations of others before he asks the reader to select their values. Through this process I discovered that what I thought my first value was, didn’t align with what I (and my grief) want and need.

The book continues with discovering your passions and strengths and includes goal setting, small step actions towards these and the importance of reviewing how it’s going. It is a great tool for anyone wanting to better understand how to create a life that is filled with meaning.

How does this pertain to grief? Simple. Our values are usually chosen by what we care about, what we want of life, our attitude of what is important. Typical values such as success to which the goal might be getting a promotion or making more money. Or if the value is adventure, the goal might be planning a trip.  When you think about grief as a persona with its own needs, attitudes and goals…what values would your grief want. I promise you it won’t be wealth.

Grief needs comfort.  It needs compassion. It needs faith, family and respect. From the list given in this book, Dr. Blake suggests to not overthink what are your values, but to go with your gut. He asks the reader to highlight 10-15 values and then narrow it down to five. When I looked at the list through the eyes of my grief, the values were different. And since grief is the overpowering elephant in the room of my current life, I decided to choose those values.

Values are the seeds to which purpose grows. Your goals become how do you water these seeds. Common goals for grievers are reducing the pain of a broken heart, honoring our loved one, finding balance amongst the chaos, reducing the anger that lives within. If the chosen values align with these types of goals, the roots of purpose can begin to grow.

By the advice from the good doctor, if we move forward with these goals, holding tight to the values attached to them, we will begin to see changes in ourselves. They may begin as small changes, but they will be there and they may unsettle you but keep going.  They will surely unsettle those in your life who want things to stay the same. However, we know we are not the same. So why would our values, our goals, and our purpose be the same?  That ideology is freeing.

Our grief, with all its many negatives, could also be the ability to shift, reboot and move forward towards a stronger self and a deeper connection to our loved ones. Ironically, purpose may grow when we align our values to what our grief needs. 

© 2026 Good Mourning Grief

Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑