A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Month: April 2026

The Blanchard Sisters

If anyone needs a reprieve from the grief and struggles of everyday life, I suggest you head to the mountains. Pack up your favorite things and leave your phone on airplane mode. The magic of the Rockies, whether an Alberta blue-sky day or a spring snow fall, every moment looks like a Hallmark greeting card. It is magical. I am filled with gratitude that I can enjoy this gift from God so often. This last trip was no exception.

I went with my sister. We spent our days shopping, eating at our favorite spots and talking way past bedtime. She shared with me an e-mail she came across that I had sent her in 2021. I had taken a course about ‘finding your authentic self’. One assignment was to write about family relationships. I had written:

We have a close, immediate family. Although I have a half brother, my sister is my go-to for everything. I am lucky to have her and not sure how I would get through life without her.

Darlene was the younger, prettier, more outgoing sister when we were growing up. I was saddled with housework, chores, school, and my mother’s idea that I was helping her raise Darlene. While I worried, fussed and planned, my sister lived life. She was daring, outgoing and popular. She was confident… She was skinny although we called her the human garburator because of the size of her appetite.  She was smart in school and the boys flocked around her. She was asked to be a model in a local talent agency and worked in retail clothing as her school job. She was the package. And I admired her full life.

She was the one who wanted to get married, have a family and live out her days in urban splendor. My father always said he saw me on a farm, packing water to the house and tending to others while my sister would jet-set to New York and other fancy cities because of her work. And yet when my sister was offered a modeling gig in the States, my parents would not let her go. At the end of the day, my sister fell in love with a salesman she met through work and did settle down into a bungalow with two kids and a dog…

My sister’s recollection of her own past was so different from mine. She never saw herself in that light. It was therapeutic rehashing our childhood, the antics and expectations of our parents, our community and ourselves, to be reminded of how and why we were quite different and yet remained so close.

Siblings are a complex relationship; raised under the same roof, there would be similarities, yet the individual differences, the separate dreams and hopes and life experiences shape each of us into something unique. Siblings can share a comfort that is unexplainable. A bond like no other. We become a being of all the events shared during childhood, the good, the bad and the ugly. 

When sis left to drive back to her own home, I went for a walk along the mountain path. I thought about our adventures, and I began to cry. Not sad tears, but rather thankful tears that through our soul plan, we chose each other to be siblings. I cried about the challenges we faced together and the laughter we share. And I cried in hope that I will have many, many more years with her.  I truly can’t imagine life without her.  

…I hold her hand. And she holds mine. And together we walk this life with all it’s hopes and sorrows.

Another Year Around the Sun

As my sweet niece states each birthday, “I’ve enjoyed another year around the sun.”  I packed my bags this morning, in anticipation for my annual birthday trip to the magical mountains. I will be going there with my sister to enjoy not one but several nights where laughter and peace will reign. I am bringing a collection of personal projects that will finally receive my attention. I feel like a kid at Christmas. This will be the start of my 63rd year. And, as is done each year before the ‘big day’ arrives, I reflect on the past year before I say goodbye to it.  

This birthday arrived quietly, steadily-like a bookmark slipped into a well-loved book. I’m still reading the same story, yet somehow everything has changed since the last time I paused on this page.

Birthdays no longer feel like milestones marked in bold, new beginnings, big plans, loud celebrations.  Now, they feel more like commas than exclamation points-gentle pauses inviting reflection rather than fanfare. I notice the small things more, the people who consistently show up, the lessons that repeat as they have yet to be learned, the gratitude that grows deeper instead of wider.

This past year did not unfold the way I imagined.  Some dreams needed adjusting, others blew up. But new ones appeared-unexpected, resilient, and better suited to who I am wanting to become. I’ve learned that growth isn’t always visible in accomplishments. Sometimes it shows up in awareness, patience, or knowing when to let go.

I’m especially aware of time now. Yes, how fleeting it is but also its inspiration to shape me. Each year leaving its imprint in laughter lines, wisdom through the experience it brought and a greater appreciation for the ordinary. Time seems to be louder now, carrying with it a voice to focus better, to work harder, to adjust my sails as the other side of the shore is closer than before.

Birthdays are about hope; another chance has been given.  Another blank slate with the opportunities to listen more closely. To be braver and firmer with boundaries. To celebrate progress without dismissing how far there still is to go.

So today, I’m not wishing for more.  I’m wishing for enough. Enough strength to carry me forward, enough courage to face uncertainty, and enough grace, for myself and for others, as I begin yet another trip around the sun.

And that feels like a pretty good way to grow older.

The Season of Renewal

I like the idea of a re-do. The possibilities of starting over, making it better, stronger than before. I am always encouraged by the Easter holiday to hold tight to a faith that things are not as they appear. That there is new life after a death. That there is a continuation of relations we thought were gone, broken or dismissed. Spring brings with it the seeds of renewal, the sunshine to warm the earth and our hearts. It is filled with promise.

Over the last three months our family has taken a step back to lean into our individual grief. Led by our daughter whose grief exploded with the breakup of her marriage, she chose to walk away from the blatant reminders of the many factors that have caused her angst for years. At first, I was shocked. Then I was angry. As time went on, I came to an acceptance that I want her happy and healthy and thus whatever path she needs to travel to get there, I must be ok with that.

While she nurtured her brokenness and sought serenity, I decided to do the same. For different reasons. Mine centered around needing our family to heal better than we have been with the multiple losses and the trauma within our lives. And in that journey, I have discovered dynamics of our clan that I had not noticed before. I have unveiled my own feelings of the role I play within our family and the gaps between caring too much and not caring enough. What started as therapy to ‘fix the broken’ has become an analysis of my own struggles. But that’s a story for another time.   

Recently, she reached out to share with us what is currently going on, the challenges she has been facing and how she is dealing with them. I tried to put the ‘mama bear’ in me aside and just listen. It was hard. No mother wants to hear that their child is hurting and not try to fix it or the very least, give some motherly advice.

As I left the conversation, my heart was filled with gratitude that she felt comfortable enough to share. I was relieved to hear that her strength is upholding. I admired how she was handling adversity. I have always wanted her to find her own path, to move away from past habits of making decisions based on the pressure of should or the need to please. I saw a woman who was becoming her own, whose eyes were open to negativity she would no longer tolerate. And she had this aura about her that was independent. I am sure this transformation is scary. And difficult. Re-dos usually are.

Grief insists that renewal happens. We are not the same. Loss has taken away our expectations of what our present and our future was to be. Thus, searching for ways to live with grief, will change you. Who we become through this process is uncertain. But the symbolism of this season gives merit to how we can transform. With grace, hope and faith that renewal will bring us light and love. 

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