Good Mourning Grief

A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Month: May 2026

The Purpose of Grief Triggers

May 31, 2026 / / 0 Comments

Triggers are a funny thing. Or maybe not so funny. They are hidden; you have no idea when they will appear or how they will appear.  But when they do, they throw you back to ground zero and the pain feels like it did in the first moments. It is gut wrenching and something all grievers know, triggers are a lifetime thing. My latest trigger happened on a walk, on a beautiful evening, just as the sun was setting.

I was coming home from my son-in-law’s birthday dinner. The evening had contained some aha moments with how things were changed, and how more change was about to happen. Not so much the coming of years, but more the passing of what used to be our life. As I walked along the path home, I was reflecting on the evening, the conversations held, the delicious meal, the care of putting it together. My thoughts were melancholy, not painful, perhaps a touch remorse, but nothing upsetting. Then I came to the field.

The sun setting in the distance cast a pastel shadow over the field. It was empty. The families, the soccer teams, all gone. It was so quiet. I started thinking about how many times we walked the ‘loop’ of this field. My daughter and I would meet after work to share the woes of our day, counting the steps to reach our goal before going home for dinner. It was the same field that my son-in-law and I would meet to share our collective grief. In those dark days, the field became the joining place when I had no where else to go.

I have walked through this field dozens of times, in every season.  That night, the trigger came in the camouflage of a sunset. And it came loud. It emphasized, through its closing of the day, my feelings that this period of my life, the one I just left, was not to be forever. There will be a time where I won’t be in that house as much, if at all. We will move on as life insists we do. And the sunset seemed to cover me in so many thoughts of what I have lost, what I am losing now and what will be lost in the future. And with that, in the middle of the field, I collapsed to ground zero.

When triggers bring ground zero to the forefront, time seems to pause. You can feel the heart crack wider, thoughts speed up with assumptions, what-if’s and if-only. The breath quickens, the tears pour out and somewhere from deep within a sob exits. I stood, alone in the field, wishing for what I know will never be. And as the sun set, I snapped a picture of it, pulled myself up and sent it to my son-in-law with a text that read, “It occurred to me, how I would come to this field upset and you would run from your place to here to be with me. I am now realizing, having got here from your place, the distance it took you to get to the same place that was right beside my home. And when I started remembering how many times you did that for me, I realized how grateful I am for you to have been there.”  Whatever is to be, I became aware of the reasons, I feel as I do. Another sunset is coming.

That’s the silver lining with triggers.  If we lean into them, if we believe that they come, not to rip us apart, but rather to help us see clearer, triggers can become a learning tool. Or at the very least, we can begin to understand that triggers are not the enemy. They are who best understands and shares our grief.

The Sheep Detectives Review

May 24, 2026 / / 0 Comments

I don’t enjoy a lot of movies because I tend to “live” the movie as if it was my own life.  I become the characters, the plot is happening to me and those I know…I reflect, remember and ponder over the outcomes for weeks after I see it. Thus, my love for Hallmark.  It is soft, little drama and always a happy ending. So, when the movie The Sheep Detectives came out and my daughter asked for her dad and I to join her, I conceded. I had heard great reviews of this movie, and I thought it was an animated comedy about sheep.  How fun would that be. And with Hugh Jackman playing the leading role, I was sold. The movie was nothing I was promised.

If you haven’t seen this movie yet, spoiler alerts here. The sheep are not cartoonish, although they talk and parts are hilarious. The movie explores themes of death and grief through the unique perspective of sheep who confront painful experiences. Their ability to selectively forget sorrow, except for one old sheep who bears the weight of remembering every loss, is used as a metaphor for how individuals cope with death, some choosing to move on quickly, while others hold onto their experiences. Ultimately, the story reveals the profound impact of loss and the resilience required to face it, making the movie both touching and thought-provoking.

There is a winter lamb that the flock tosses aside and will not include, but who continually tries to belong, symbolizing hope amid hardship. Born during the coldest months, it represents resilience and new beginnings, showing that even in the bleakest times, life finds a way to persist. Its presence serves as a reminder to the flock that renewal and warmth can follow even the deepest freeze, offering comfort and optimism as they navigate grief and uncertainty.

Sebastian, the lone lamb, prefers to look down from a cliff at the flock, embodies the symbolism of isolation and introspection. His physical separation from the group highlights the experience of feeling apart from others, whether by choice or circumstance, and reflects the journey of those who process grief or adversity in solitude. Sebastian’s vantage point suggests a desire to observe, understand, and perhaps find meaning from a distance, representing the nuanced ways individuals seek perspective and healing outside the comfort of community.

There is so much symbolism in the movie relating to how we cope in the face of uncertainty and grief. I was crying at the injustice of their experiences. I was furious at the unfairness of what they could not control, and I was a little jealous that they could choose to forget what they could not endure. My emotions were a mesh of tears and laughter and aha moments of how my own grief could be seen in the actions, thoughts and desires of these little movie sheep.

In the end, the sheep found strength together to face their losses, witnessing signs they were not alone and creating ways to honor those they loved.  For fictional sheep, their lessons were very real.

This is a movie for the whole family, and a great reminder for those grieving that loss is your own journey but that it can be more consolable in the flock of family and friends. 

Receiving Messages from The Universe

May 17, 2026 / / 0 Comments

Recently a group of us shared a conversation of the messages we receive from our loved ones, how we know it is them and how we want to increase and strengthen this relation.

We know that we connect better to the Universe if we cultivate mindfulness and pay close attention to our surroundings. We know we should practise meditation to uncover subtle energies and signs. Keeping a journal of experiences can also help recognize patterns and validate perceptions.

The more abstract idea is setting clear intentions, asking for signs or guidance, to receive messages from loved ones, and then trusting your intuition, whether the messages come through dreams, objects, or repeating numbers.

Although all these practices contribute to a higher vibration, I believe the biggest hurdle in receiving messages is distraction. When I am on a quiet walk in the park, I find all sorts of ways Zane is letting me know he is with me. When I am overextended or too busy, signs are missed.  That is what happened to me recently.

We had gone out with friends for dinner.  At the next table, a gentleman joined his friends. The tables were very close together, so my husband politely said hello, and we introduced each other. His name was Jay and I did not notice he had a camera until he asked to take a picture of our friend.

When he took the picture, I asked, “are you a photographer?” He said, “Yes, I don’t go anywhere without it.  I really enjoy street photography”.  I told him so did my son. Zane would spend hours asking random people on the street if he could take their picture. Jay said he that he was a rock climber with a passion for mountain shots. I told him of how Zane loved nature shots too. Then he asked what social account my son posted his pictures on.

I took a breath and shared my readers digest version of our fate. He said, “I’m so sorry. I lost my wife two years ago.” We talked about the awkwardness of having to share stories with strangers and how we appreciated the ease of those who ‘get it’. We continued chatting about how photography can be a positive security blanket. It was as if the spirits of his wife and my son connected our tables to share our grief through a conversation about snapping pictures. And suddenly I understood why.

He was sitting next to me, a message from Zane, in human form. A reminder of how photography can help heal. It can connect one to life, speaking through pictures of what the heart cannot describe. Jay was sharing the power of mindful photography, the lessons Zane had learned, the legacy he left. Through my work, the projects we are building to share what Zane and Jay know is all about the power of healing through the lens of a camera. We are close to creating a project that will benefit the masses, but the work has not been easy, and I often feel like I am failing. Listening to Jay, it was a conversation I needed after a hard day at work to remind me I am on the right path.  “You got this mama.”

I had almost missed receiving this message being distracted in the company of my good friends. Jay got up to leave. I stood up to give him a hug. “I think my son knows your spirit”, I said, “I’ll be watching for your photos.” He smiled and placed his hand on my shoulder.  “Ditto.” 

The Strength of Motherhood

May 10, 2026 / / 0 Comments

I have a favorite toast I share with my friends who are mothers, “Here’s to strong women, may we know them, may we be them, may we raise them.” I try to live by this empowering quote. This year, the sentiment was loud.

In my clan, I have shared the last year with women who have presented unspeakable strength. Friends who are personally battling poor health and yet still showing up for their family. Still showing up to gather their loved ones around the table, showing up at school concerts and soccer practices. Some of them on crutches and some of them coming from chemo treatment. They show up.

I have some friends who are battling the agony of absent family members. The strength it takes to continue when you can not hold your loved one because death has taken them away. Or addiction has. Or the children who have chosen to disassociate in a desire to heal their own pain. These friends continue to be there, waiting, exploring how they could connect with a child living across the veil or reunite with a distanced child. This path takes the strength of a mother.

I have watched the women we raised, including my own daughter, face adversity and heartbreak with a strength that comes from within. The ability to work, to be present for others, to face another day when the anguish of their heart and mind beg for a reprieve. This is a strength that is part innate and part taught. A strength learned through the lessons of a mother.

I know and bond with the strong women whose support in new challenges and in continuing challenges bring us closer. Challenges of all depths, including terminal illness, divorce, death and the uncertainty of upcoming changes. Together is where strength lies. A place where judgement is not allowed and tears are encouraged. A place where hearts are shared and souls gather to offer hope, peace and when one of us is empty, we are there to share strength.

Strong women are what we are. Strong. Each new day, each new situation that arrives, we meet it with a strength only found in the spirit of a mother. Whether motherhood is taking care of her own children, or her sibling’s children or her child’s children or the children of others…motherhood is a role taken on by those whose passion for care, justice and the welfare of any other living being. In a way, we are all mothers.

If not for the strength of mothers, those who raised us, those who sustain us and those we are raising, where would we be. Motherhood is a gift of grace. A responsibility to God that we are the caretakers of this life and those in it. It is a gift to which strength is essential. And to which we are lucky to have been given.

Mother’s Day is a moment each year to recognize and to celebrate all of this. From my heart to yours, thank you for sharing motherhood with me.

The Friends I Wish I Never Met

May 3, 2026 /

We had met a father in our early grief days who had a quote he would say to the (new) friends he met through group counselling, “you are the friend I wish I had never met.” It is a true statement that I have adopted. I have many girlfriends now who I have met and share a deep bond with because we have one major thing in common.  We are grieving mothers.

In 2010, Carlie Dudley, started Grieving Mother’s Day to honor those mothers who have had a child pass. Her own son, Christian, was the motivation behind this, choosing the Sunday before Mother’s Day to honor our role as mothers of angels. Each year, I now celebrate both Sundays. One with my family and earthly children and the other with my grief gals.

This year, six or seven of us will gather at Reader’s Rock Café in Union Cemetery. This peaceful site is scattered with tombstones of loved ones passed and in the centre of it is a heritage house that is filled with the smells of a good coffee and brunch. We will share updates on living with grief, tell stories of Mother’s Days past and after brunch, we will stroll along the paths lined with spring flowers and everything green.  We will stop to take turns calling our children from the wind phone.

The wind phone, I have talked about before, is a beautiful tribute to the idea of connecting to your loved ones in Heaven via a rotary phone that you pick up, dial their number, and speak to them. If you are quiet, you will hear their reply. I have called Zane a few times on this phone and each time it hits me harder than anticipated when I dial his old number. I can hear him say, “hey mama, what’s up?” And the conversation begins.

Is it strange I look forward to this morning with my girlfriends? I don’t think so. I see these events as part of my healing. There is a comfort found amongst us that we are not alone.  A strength found in the sharing of the pain we all carry and yet continue to move forward. There is joy found in the recognition of our children through the stories of their unique and impactful time on earth. 

These are the friends I wish I had never met. And yet, without them, I would be adrift. They are the ones that understand only what can be understood through great loss. They are the ones that say “I know” because they know. They are the ones that truly understand how hard it is to face every day with a heart that is broken. To smile when you are angry. To laugh when you want to cry. They are the ones who feel the same pain. The pain of a grieving mother.

We are all hoping for good weather to enjoy the cemetery grounds. It is a beautiful, serene time shared with the spirits of so many amongst us. There is a strange vibe there, an encompassing energy of the reality that eternity is ours. That our loved ones are not gone. Each time I visit, I leave with a peace inside that we will always be connected. A beautiful feeling, especially on Mother’s Day.

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