Author: Mama Fish (Page 1 of 33)

I Took My Soul on A Holiday

August 23, 2026 / Mama Fish / 0 Comments

We all need time to be alone, but no one wants to be lonely. A danger of loneliness is it deters healing, while being alone gives space for soul introspection. Being alone, does not mean you are lonely. Lonely wants you to think they are related and brings distraction, the cousin of loneliness to ensure you don’t figure this out.

Distractions are the everyday happenings that turn our attention away from our soul. In the beginning we are told to look for distractions to ensure that our grief doesn’t overwhelm us. Perhaps that is where it begins. We put our grief on hold to focus on whatever the distraction is and when we do this enough times, we find ourselves looking for distractions rather than quiet moments. Our grieving soul is ignored.

There needs to be a balance between facing our grief, caring for our soul and following interruptions that take up all our energy. Often, my soul has asked, “can you find some time to be alone with me?” It received no reply until fate intervened and I was asked to house sit for a month.

With the blessing of my family, I packed my bags, grocery shopped for one and moved in. I brought reading material, tarot cards, projects I have been meaning to do for years, and some work. I did not pack distractions. Each morning, I would meditate in the sunny backyard sipping a hot lemon water. I would take walks in the community, exploring the shops and the quaint houses along main street. I had no one to report to and more importantly, no one to care for but my own soul.

The first couple days were easy; I am burnt out, so I just read and slept. As the days turned to a week, I found myself journaling, pondering my needs, sketching possibilities of what could I change or create to support my soul better. I accepted only a few distractions; invitations to meet family for happy hour, to which I enjoyed with excitement. Then I would re-enter silence.

In the quiet moments, we feel our loss; we cry, we sit with the brokenness of our heart. We know not how long it will last, so we bring in a distraction. When you are alone, there are fewer distractions and the uncomfortable feelings knock and enter easier. When you commit to being alone and letting those feelings run amok, the results are surprising.

A strange peace began to replace the anxiety of a jam-packed day. It was easier to identify what was a clear no rather than a muddled yes. I learned that I need the tranquility of nothing. I gained a deeper insight into my grief. I was never lonely; my soul kept me company.

By the end of the month, I found myself looking for inspiration, rather than distractions, limiting my commitments and harboring my new routine of sun, meditation and aloneness.

As I packed my bags to leave my short sabbatical, I questioned if I have the answers to how to keep this pace when I return to the demands of my true reality. I do know that how I feel after this reprieve is what I need. My soul had a holiday to which nurtured every part of me. With that, I promised my soul to find more ways to hang out together. Alone.

Traditions of August

August 16, 2026 / Mama Fish / 0 Comments

August is a tough month for our family. Zane was killed on the seventh, and the thirteenth is his birthday. That year, we held his celebration of life on his birthday; a fitting way to honor the impact of his infinity. Since then, we have had the annual pleasure of Zane’s friends gathering with us to celebrate him on his birthday. Each year is a bit different, but food, drinks and memories shared are the main components. It has been a bittersweet tradition.

My sweet sister’s annual ritual is a bit different. On the seventh, she buys three bouquets of Lilies. She drives out to the site of the crash and places two of the bouquets at the unmarked cross that marks this spot. She then drives to my home to give me the third bouquet.

This year, we did a ‘reset.’ What that means is there was no collective cheer. We are at a cross point where a few key members of our family have chosen to step back to address their grief (and their love for Zane) differently. I must honor that. There are a few more members that were away this year…yes life continues and does not stop for this one day. When one of my ‘favorites’ said it was too much to bear, I threw in the towel and decided that this year we go our separate ways, honoring him as individuals.

As we got closer to the birthday, my inability to let this year go by without any form of commemoration, led me to an idea. I took a trip to the liquor store and bought semi-bottles of gin, cans of Fever-Tree soda, lime slices, Doritos and bottles of bubbles. I made grab bags with a card explaining that some time on the thirteenth, if they could have a toast to Zane, snap a picture and send it to me, that will be our celebration for this year.

It is funny how tradition plays with our grief. When a loved one passes, we are taught to tweak or change or cancel the traditions to accommodate our feelings. Or we build new ones. And that is what I did. I made Zane’s birthday be about gathering EVERY year to ensure he was remembered and that we stayed connected to his friends. I knew in my heart the year would come that it would end, but I wasn’t sure when and I didn’t want it to. I am once again feeling the pain that the loss of a tradition brings.

In my sadness I forgot about my sister’s tradition and when the call came in from her that the Lilies were on their way, I was filled with such gratitude that something was still the same. One of the traditions surrounding how our life has played out for the last eight years still happened. Somehow, those flowers smelled sweeter this year. She has no idea what her actions do for our hearts. Especially this year.

The thirteenth did arrive with hugs from his friends as I dropped off their goody bags. My son-in-law bought me lunch. My husband and I ventured out to our favorite watering hole for one, and then to a gin distillery, a new place I felt Zane would like, and then to a bar we enjoyed with Zane. The mixture of grief and drinks, sent me to bed early, accompanied by a headache in the morning; that part of tradition, I could do without!

My favorite part of the day was receiving pictures and videos from those who toasted Zane. I have a fabulous collection of beverages from all over the country that I will print and place in this year’s family photo album. Each one reminded me that he is fondly remembered. That, through him, we are connected. The tradition of celebrating my boy continues.

Eternity is Ours

August 9, 2026 / Mama Fish / 0 Comments

The police came to our door on a Tuesday morning, bringing devastating news that no parent ever could imagine receiving.

“On behalf of Zane…”

What do you mean ‘on behalf’?

“…. there was a collision, he was killed….”

NO. NO. NO.

That was eight years ago. My heart shattered into sharp, angry shards of glass. I have tried putting it back together since. It is a mosaic at best with large cracks that metaphorically are supposed to let the light in. I think that these cracks let the whole universe in. I know that my heart will never be the same. My cardiologist agrees.

How can my beautiful boy be gone for that long? I continue to wait as if in some magical Hollywood moment, he will return. I search for him everyday in the face of strangers, in the places he enjoyed. When my mind tries to say he is gone, my heart says different. He is still somewhere.

Zane shared with me a quote: “In some other life, we are standing and laughing, that in some other life, we are apart.” This ideal that we are together somewhere, brings me comfort.

No parent ever gets over the unnatural order of their child leaving earth first. Life becomes a search to find the elixir to keep present for our other loved ones, our own lives, and for the legacy of our child. I have found time does not make it easier. It does not soften the fact that there are no more physical hugs. Time becomes the biggest tease, and part of grieving is finding a way to endure this.

Over the last years I have clung to the ideal that our loved ones are not truly gone. I have immersed myself in courses that teach how to connect to the other realm, to recognize angel signs. It has led me to a desire to be more comfortable with the unknown. To understand and share with others, that death is not the end.

The belief that we are energy and that energy cannot be destroyed is the only scientific fact that I hold in my heart. If this can be true, as even Albert Einstein believed, then my son is still here. And albeit different, I can still have a close relationship with him. Forever.

The evidence is in the signs; a saying that comes across my computer when I am thinking of him. The small feathers that float out of nowhere to land in front of my path. The dragonfly that flies next to me on my walk. The scent of his cologne late at night or our song playing on the radio.

These are confirmations, celestial proof our children are still here. Messages from heaven are felt by the soul; the foundation to keeping us connected to our loved ones. For eternity. Death cannot subdue this.

There is consolation in the belief that Zane and I have a connection that will stand the test of time. We experienced this life as mother and son and I believe we will find each other in the next life. In the meantime, I will continue patching my mosaic heart, trusting that love never dies, it holds us tight. We are bound for eternity, morning, noon and night.

One Last Time by John Edward

August 2, 2026 / Mama Fish / 0 Comments

John Edward is an internationally acclaimed psychic medium whose book One Last Time is the story of his personal journey of discovering and developing his talents to communicate with the other side.

Throughout the book, Mr. Edward shares numerous readings and encounters with grieving individuals who sought messages from deceased loved ones. A major theme of the book is the enduring connection between heaven and earth.

He shares tips to receiving a successful reading through a medium. His advice is to “check your expectations at the door”. He states that the dead are ‘in charge’ as to who comes through and why and with what connection. Mediums are only the messenger of those from the other side.

He explains how he receives information through impressions, symbols, emotions, and images. His role is to share these feelings without censoring them. He tells his followers, “If I hear it, you’re going to hear it….” According to Mr. Edward, these communications can bring comfort, healing, and reassurance to those coping with loss.

Mr. Edward emphasizes hope, faith, and the idea that relationships continue beyond physical death. He encourages readers to remain open-minded about spiritual experiences and reminds us that signs from loved ones appear in everyday life. (He conducts workshops for those who wish to develop their own psychic abilities.)

Overall, One Last Time combines autobiography, spiritual discussion, and accounts of mediumship to explore questions about the afterlife, grief, and the lasting bonds of love between people and their departed family members and friends. It is an inspiring read that is both entertaining, and reassuring. Our loved ones never really die.

Loneliness Is the Enemy

July 26, 2026 / Mama Fish

Grief can become a very lonely space. We fill our days with work, our nights with social gatherings, our weekends catching up. We may not recognize lonely because our time is filled and moves quickly. But it’s there. It’s a part of grief. It’s the solitary ache of what we once had. Most of us can admit we have experienced loneliness, but the impact of what loneliness does is far worse than just being alone.

Loneliness alters the ability to think rationally. We begin to seek connections to replace our negative feelings without the ability to understand if these connections are supportive and healthy. Often, they are not. We form friendships, relationships, ideals to feel comforted, ignoring any signs that our actions are not in our own best interests. We see these new relations through a filtered light; these persons ‘take away our loneliness’ and we bring them in closer; we consider them family and that is okay. Until it isn’t.

Recently it has become evident that one of the people I have adopted as my own has betrayed me. Maybe that is a tad dramatic, but it is how I feel. I have loved this person, cared for this person, been in their corner for years, cheering them on and supporting them in every aspect. They became a part of our family. Their recent choices are not in the best interest of anyone’s well being. They were selfishly made because they did not want to be lonely.

The choice was like a punch in the gut to me. I was reassured it was a short-term fix. I trusted that and have discovered this choice is more than that. This choice goes against the advice of family and friends. This choice has ripped apart the ideals, the roles, the hope I once had for this person. Their inability to tell me, to try to hide this choice from me, is a slap in the face.

I have spent sleepless nights going back and forth from how this happened to how did I not see this happen. The idea that this is the person I brought into our family, that I fought for when questioned why I was so close to them, is the same person who may now bring more pain to us, makes me want to throw up. In my grief, loneliness diluted my ability to fully comprehend if trust and transparency were part of our relationship. I had fooled myself to think that it was. Or maybe it once was. I will never understand how the choice made was one they had promised would never be and is now the only option they want.

Their poor decision has been made, and the consequences of their choice are heart breaking. Not for them just yet. No, their actions have masked the loneliness that brought this on. They relish in this new ‘lifeline’. They have criticized or alienated anyone who might not agree.

I am left to sit at the sidelines and watch this happen. I listen to their new plans; I watch their distorted days. There is no healing, no moving forward, there is no awareness of the trouble about to come with this decision. There is no concern that those who truly care for them are in turmoil because of their actions. There is only the escape from their loneliness that is the encouragement to keep walking a path of destruction.

Oh, loneliness, your ability to enter as a newfound friend, cuddling up to our grief and offering empty promises of better times…. how many lives have you ruined?

Clean Up Your Crap!

July 19, 2026 / Mama Fish

When grief arrives, it comes in selfish. It blinds us, disabling us to look past our own pain to see the needs or fears of another. We truly become self-absorbed. What’s wrong with this method of coping is that the concerns of those who love us can be misconstrued, thus received as criticism or rejection. And perhaps there is a bit of negativity, or a lot, my point is that grievers tend to project their needs onto others disregarding any attempt to stop and ask themselves, “what’s my crap on the sidewalk?”

Recently one of Zane’s friends broke up with his girlfriend. We are all sad about this but have seen it coming for a long time and after the pain subsides, it will be best for both. He shared with me a text his girlfriend sent him of how his actions had impacted her. He was distraught to think that he had caused someone he loved at one time to feel the way she did. He did not want to be responsible for that. Of course not, crap on the sidewalk is painfully ugly. But if we want to become better, we must clean it up. And therein lies multiple problems.

Nobody wants to claim crap. It is difficult to admit you put crap on the sidewalk by a wrong action or a failing. It is significantly easier to ignore it or make excuses for it, or my favorite, pretending someone else put it there. The first step is to claim it, “this is my crap!”

The second problem is the hard work it requires to clean up crap. It’s messy, it stinks, it is all the ugly. Crap isn’t the glitter of our personalities; it’s the raw expressed emotions, the childhood traumas, the unlearned lessons needed to grow. Life presents personal trials, and the crappy ones, until we face them head on, never go away.

Furthermore, to clean up your crap, you can lean on others for support, but they can’t clean it. A lot of people wish to have someone else clean their crap. Can’t be done; your crap is your crap. It’s an individual thing and it requires strength, bravery and endurance to face it and clean it. That’s the next problem.

Often, we can’t see that we carry within us all that is needed to clean up our crap. Instead, we choose to wallow in the labels we or others give us. We get stuck in self-pity when we should be focused on the desire to change. This confused thinking results in decisions that usually brings more crap. The cycle thickens and continues. We must stop the negative thinking that clouds our vision to see the truth. We can’t resolve what we refuse to see.

So, what’s the crap on your sidewalk? Because we all have some. Figure out whose crap it is. Ask those you trust to point it out. Be open to hearing about it; it’s just crap. It isn’t the entirety of you, so keep offering positive affirmations to yourself and to others that you’ve got this mess. Clean up your own crap, and for God’s sake, don’t try to clean up someone else’s crap. That defeats their whole soul lesson, causing that same crap to return. In bigger piles that we are all going to step in.

Until Next Year

July 12, 2026 / Mama Fish

Stampede gets me every year. This was the first year that ‘mama’s day’ was one kid only. When Zane was born, I took him down for games, mini donuts and shopping in the BMO. Payton was born and it was the three of us. As the kids grew, their significant others joined. Each year one day was my treat to a day at the Stampede.

This year, it was just Payton with me. No partners, the first year Roydon did not join us. I wasn’t sure how I would feel. My daughter and I have a lot of fun together and if I ask my ‘old lady ego’ to step back, I am more in the moment. So, I put this request into my subconscious as we waited in line to enter the grounds. Fun, food and songs filled the day making it one I will remember forever.

I ate the corn dog and devoured the mini donuts. We played games, trading up prizes and shopped the BMO, taking selfies of the two of us pretending to be racing horses. We got matching tattoos (spray on only this year) and ended up at Nashville North to enjoy wine and a Drag Queen Show.

Bubbles followed us along the midway, Zane’s sign he was with us. We ended the day, intoxicated and carrying BBQ ribs and chicken shawarma mac and cheese home for supper.

This year also says goodbye to the Ranchman’s Cook House and Dance Hall. An iconic building to which generations experienced country in all its glory and then some. For 54 years, this establishment has created memories that we all hold dear. We went with friends to say goodbye to this Cowtown staple, enjoying lunch and beverages on a hot sunny patio with Samantha Lee and David Duncan playing music on the stage. I walked through the old dance hall before we left, taking a few pictures and leaving behind a few tears.

We enjoyed the rodeo with family visiting, fantastic in-field seats to witness and cheer on the semi-finalists. Today, we will take them to see the chuckwagon races and the famous Young Canadian show. It seems this year, the Universe arranged to have my first day bonding with my daughter and then filled the week with short, happy visits to the grounds, finishing it off with fireworks.

When grief blows up one’s life, forcing changes to be made, it brings with it a resentment around why this is happening and a fear of what might happen now. How will it be ok. But when we surrender to it, when we stay in the moment asking for life to keep us open to new ideas and experiences, life delivers. In magical, surprising ways.

The Calgary Stampede is a big holiday in our family. It carries an energy that stirs our souls. I enjoyed attending as a child, and I still do. I am delighted in the fact that my children have inherited the same desire to never miss this annual excitement. It is a tradition that brings sentimental sorrow each year, when the circus tents come down. “Happy trails to you, until we meet again….”

The Light from Del

July 5, 2026 / Mama Fish

The first time I was introduced to Del, one of the residents in the building we live in, she asked me to lean in so she could see me. “I’m almost blind”, she giggled. If there is any truth in the saying ‘the eyes are the windows to the soul’ Del was proof. Her eyes sparkled with a love and joy for life that drew you in. She became an instant favorite to everyone she met.

At our condo socials, I got to know her a bit more. She was a long-time local. She had a close family, grandchildren, friends of all ages. She loved a full glass of a bold red. She said she was lucky. She shared the story of how she met Bob and would giggle when we called him her ‘boyfriend’. If you asked how old Del was, the answer was young.

When her cancer returned and the doctors offered no hope, she booked a cruise and sailed off with Bob. I saw her in the hall when she got home and asked how the cruise was. “Fantastic! We had so much fun and then I came home and ended in the hospital, but I’m out now!” She giggled and toddled off.

When news came that she had chosen MAID as the way she wished to leave this earth it was no surprise. Visits with her while she waited for the day were filled with laughter and cheer making it difficult to truly comprehend how sick she really was. A group of us got together and decided to each write our own letter to Del about her impact on our lives. We bundled them in a pile and tied them in a pretty silk bow. They were delivered to her with a bouquet of roses three days before the scheduled departure, only to be told that she was leaving that day.

We were in shock. We thought we had more time with her. Through the tears and the disbelief, we stood by as the doctors arrived, left, and then the unmarked hearse pulled up. I stood on our patio with a coconut tequila, raising my glass to her as her body was carried away. We agreed that her final choice to be ‘sneaky’ about her own death, was so Del. She had decided that she wasn’t going to let us be sad. She was leaving while there was still life; while there were still sounds of laughter in the room.

Massive thunder arrived that evening. It was as if the Angels sounded the trumpets for one of their own returning home. A colorful rainbow was seen cascading from the clouds, our sign from Del that she will continue to spread a beautiful light over us.

Del, how you grabbed life each day with positivity and joy is motivation to the rest of us to be more, do more, laugh more. Or at the very least, giggle. Thank you for sharing your soul with us.

Conscious Grieving by Claire Bidwell Smith

June 28, 2026 / Mama Fish

Claire is a therapist, specializing in grief who, through her book Conscious Grieving, offers the reader four linear orientations that happen when one experiences loss. She encourages the reader to refer to this book many times as each time something new could be discovered.

Entering into grief is the first orientation which was filled with affirmations of the feelings that come when loss first arrives. I enjoyed the reflection she had at the end of each point which gave room for thought and understanding. The first reflection, “Can you give yourself permission to grieve in a way you haven’t yet?” I was curious, how many ways are there? Is there a checklist to cross off and if so, how does that help one heal.

The second orientation was about engaging with grief and included how to recognize trauma, the effects of grief on the brain and emotions such as guilt and anger. She includes eleven tips on how to manage anger in a healthy way. The reflection related to triggers asked the reader to think of their most recent trigger and answer, “Was the experience an opportunity to address something you’d been avoiding?” I felt that. Hard.

Orientation number three was how to surrender to your grief. Claire writes that “the answer to your suffering is in surrendering to it.” By leaning in to our grief, we allow grief to reveal what matters, explore a different future as we are never to be the same. She asks the reader to reflect on the questions, “what will it take for you to surrender? What forms of support do you need? What must you do to stop resisting?”

The fourth orientation is about transforming through the grief. This section alludes to the idea that there is another (more joyful) side of loss. It is always this focus that I seem to get stuck on. However, Claire includes a chapter of how we can continue our connection with our loved ones. Moving out of the mindset that our relationship has ended opens a new sort of relationship with them. The fourth orientation is all about how we can become more aware of how death changes our values and our own life here on earth. It truly was a chapter of hope.

The book includes a tool kit for coping with grief, honoring our loved ones and asking for help. Overall, it is a great book to give anyone who walks the path of grief. Claire was correct that her book does have something for everyone, no matter where you are along your journey.

Building Your Own Legacy

June 21, 2026 / Mama Fish

In a recent counseling appointment, we touched on my grief and how it may be affecting me and those around me. The question of focus was am I building a legacy for only Zane. There have been innuendos and fleeting comments about how everything I do seems to have a component of my son included. Does this make my loved ones feel somewhat left out? I thought it was an absurd perception at first.

Every mother has this fear that her child will not be remembered. We take it upon ourselves to become the legacy builder for them. We are the ‘gate keepers,’ the one who insist that they have a seat at the table, that their stories are shared, that their name is said aloud. It is how we continue to love our child. It is also what we need to survive the daily task of living without their physical presence. Bringing our child into our everyday life through actions on their behalf and mentions of their memory helps keep grief pacified.

I will not change this nor will I apologize for it. However, as it was gently pointed out to me, I too need a legacy. Is mine only that of my child’s? And as a mother, what about the legacy of the loved ones I share this life with. What is my part in supporting the building of their legacy? I left the appointment with my brain hurting from the contemplation of all of it.

The popular question, “what do you want said at your funeral” is the creative way of asking, “what do you want your legacy to be.” Everyone leaves this earth with a legacy, the footprints of what their life did to those they touched. It is energizing to know that we have the power to establish our own legacy.

It begins with what we love, what makes our own soul come alive. Following that passion with simple, every day actions is how a legacy is built. My grandmother’s passion for natural medicine left her family with a knowledge and a practice of alternative healing. My mother’s love of cooking left us with a passion for comfort food and a collection of recipes that brings her alive with each dish.

I have thought of what my legacy might be, but motherhood has been a great distraction to exploring my own. And when Zane was killed, my entire energy shifted to building the legacy he should have been here to do. It has been an easy task. We shared so many passions, writing, photography, astrology, which furthering his loves has reignited in me the energy I had as a teenager. Honoring Zane, I have dug up the girl I used to be.

My therapists challenge for me is twofold. What can I do to support the legacy building for each of my loved ones and how can I expand the circle of legacy such that my legacy is next to Zane’s and not entirely his. He deserves his own. As do I.

As if the Universe felt the point of my session needed to be emphasized, the Hallmark movie that night was about legacy! The ironic details of this movie included the family name was Blanchard (my maiden name), the mystical Aunt who led the way was Gert (my mother-in-law) and the movie was about letting go of the café or not as it was the mother’s legacy (my mom’s love of cooking!). I could hardly watch it as each scene seemed to bring more ideas, more proof of the importance of building your own legacy while supporting your families desire to do the same. Oh Hallmark, where do you come up with these ideas? I’m listening and learning. The assignment begins.