Author: Mama Fish (Page 3 of 32)

Gentle Reminders for Mother Hen

January 4, 2026 / Mama Fish

Over the holidays, I reviewed my role as a contributing and positive person in the lives of those I love. It was suggested that I can be controlling, opinionated and a busy body. Ouch. Someone else spoke of how I was raised on guilt and thus very good at using that tactic in my parenting. Double ouch. There is no mistake that our clan is suffering, trials and tribulations seem to be our thing. I’d like that to change and wondered how I can help, or do I just make it worse.

When I approached my family with this query, I was appreciative of the honesty of the responses. Yes, I can be opinionated, but it comes from a place of love. Yes, I tend to take charge when I see someone struggling and sometimes this causes questions of whether a person was genuine or if they were acting on ‘momma’s orders.’ Overall, my family has come to accept me and my actions as the mother hen God created. I seem to be the one having an issue with it.

I guess this whole review comes from the many arguments of late and the exasperation I feel with the choices my family are making. I am worried about the outcomes. I’m not sure how I can mind my own business when I am usually the go-to person when things go south. To let go is unknown territory for me because it is new. I used to be very confident in how I expressed care. Now, I seem to question, overthink and host doubt. I blame grief.

When we lose someone, we subconsciously become more controlling. We could not control when and how death came into our life to blow it up. But it did. And it left us feeling vulnerable. We begin to put into place actions to protect our fears, to perhaps numb some of the pain. We tighten our opinions. We begin to manage situations, putting conditions on the idea that if we have more control, we will not be hurt again. It doesn’t work.

As I was exploring how to step back from my urge to be ultimate mother hen, one of my ‘kids’ sent me a text. He told me that my love for him is what sustains him. He doesn’t understand it, but he knows that I am there for him. Unconditionally. And that has made the difference. My heart burst.

Another family member texted me, “I was the best part of 2025. Stay positive.” And another unsolicited text, “…You are the one there for me…” And then my daughter reminded me of the trip we had together to Ireland. A bucket list of her and Zane’s to get me there. She hugged me and said, “2025 took us to Ireland and showered us with signs that our tribe lives on. Together.” My heart burst again. I had forgotten how important that trip was. Truly the highlight of the year.

I believe that personal reflection is always a good practice. It solicits feedback to spark necessary change and supports the ability for growth. It may sting but change usually does. My favorite part is the gentle reminders of what is working, that one’s intentions have been received in the manner to which they were meant. These affirmations can be the foundation of what to build on.

Life is what it is. It will not be constant. There will always be change. How we move forward, becoming a stronger, more impactful version of our former self is the focus to which we can find balance, joy and connection. As mother hen, I will better choose the issues I peck at as some problems aren’t even mine. And the result might be a few less ruffled feathers.

Saddle Up, Another Year is Here

December 28, 2025 / Mama Fish

This Christmas was different. Each of us recognized there was something missing. It wasn’t the same; the happy holiday sentiments were empty. It seemed like another task. I hated our neighbor’s Santa decor, each morning displaying the number of days until Christmas arrived. I wanted to kick him. I was ready, in all the materialistic manners, only my heart was not.

This year I battled. Hard. It was an exercise in compromise. Life brought with it major changes on all levels. It forced us to reevaluate who we are, who we want to be and who we want to be with. The answers were not familiar. Strong ties are now broken and new events substituted tradition.

Social media shouts, it was the year of the snake. This was the year we were to shed what is no longer fitting. It was supposed to be a hard year of transformation. I don’t recall knowing that at the start of this year. And yet, we seemed to have lived the meaning of what the snake brings. I am opposed to this because I am not a creature of change. I hate change. In fact, I will choose to live with what is uncomfortable to avoid change. My family is different. They seem to embrace the necessary hardship of change, looking past the difficulty of now to the possibility of what might be. I seem to be stuck. I can only see what it was. And I miss it.

At the end of Christmas, it was not the same, but not terrible. It brought new experiences and revised editions of past rituals. We got together. Just not altogether. We did laugh. I did cry. Some of the feelings were reminiscent of past times and a few new joys. All in all, it was the usual bittersweet I live. And goals for the New Year…well they are being planned.

2026 will be the year of the horse. Bold, strong, galloping into the anticipation of better. The horse symbolizes heading forward to what one has discovered from the past year’s shedding of what ails us. Right now, I feel like an old mare. I don’t have any desire to leave the pasture of my past. I can’t see how the grass may be greener on the other side. In fact, I am fearful of what might be hidden there.

Alas, it will soon arrive, so I share with you ‘bah humbug’ sentiments, honoring a character we rewatched as part of our holiday movie collection, Mr. Grinch.

It came with gifts, it came with toys, it came dressed up, with toasts of joy.

It brought cookies, squares, baked goods and pies, it brought mittens and markets and presents to buy.

It gathered those from near and from far to sip happy hours at local bars. This season was filled with so much to do. It hardly gave me time to sit next to you.

Yes, Christmas came with its markers and makers, it came with its festivals, top shows and its shakers. It brought in the moments, the ribbon and presents, and left with reminders of a notable essence.

Maybe, just maybe with angels nearby, we can carry our grief without answers why. And maybe, just maybe the cosmic stars’ mystery will bring signs of new happy wonders to see…

2026 is about the horse, may each of you have a comfortable saddle, and a wide-open course.

Values Are One’s Compass

December 21, 2025 / Mama Fish

One of my medical appointments related to my health was to determine if I am experiencing burnout. In this meeting, she asked me if I was clear of what my values were. She suggested a website that outlines value themes and to choose the top ten that I feel align with my beliefs and then narrow that number down to three. Or maybe five if three seemed daunting. I told her that I knew what they were, had already done a test such as that in my line of work. She asked if I had done it since 2018. No, I had not. She smiled, “grief can change one’s values.”

It was an aha moment for me. Grief has changed the way I feel, reason, behave…why would I think my values are the same as before. I agreed to review the list and discovered that what I valued before Zane was killed, only one of the values is still in accordance with my present beliefs. Worse, most of my daily actions are supporting no values, my past or my newly identified values. No wonder the internal turmoil I am experiencing is so loud.

My old values were family/friends, work, health, community and social. I work in community with no boundaries; guilt knocks me over if I am not there for family and friends and thus my busy social life which contributes to my poor health. It is almost laughable.

My new list contains ideals that are reflective of my pain. The first is inner harmony. I want my soul to quit screaming. If I have this, it will bring me peace. The second is spirituality. 2018 taught me that there is more to life than this, that the connection to the other realm, to God, to my loved ones in spirit is my salvation. This value brings me balance. The third value is still family/friends. I believe that friends and family are the same. For me, family is like the sun. Everything revolves around them. This is my true community.

If I am permitted to have another two values, they would be creativity and wealth as I believe that the right creativity could bring wealth. And this combination will bring me opportunity.

It was amusing that work, community, social and health got kicked off the new list. Work is fine, I am closer to retirement than the fight to climb the professional ladder. My community was too big and became filled with associates rather than relationships which created obligations not celebrations. And social, grief insists that solitude replace it.

Health, I was surprised that it was not on my list given that I spent most of 2025 in medical offices. I have come to believe that health is part of one’s fate. Yes, we must do the right things, diet, exercise, sleep, moderation…but it has become more a daily undertaking, not a value. And if I am honoring my values, my health will surely benefit.

I think my therapist might be on to something with this value alignment. At the end of the session, it was confirmed that I am experiencing total emotional burnout. Which, she believes is part of the underlining manifestation of my physical issues. I am sure my herbalist would agree. I now begin a journey to heal. Both mentally, physically and emotionally. It is fitting that this has all happened at the end of the year when goals and dreams and hopes for the next are being considered. My ideals for 2026 will focus on how to create a life that honors my new values.

Coldplay On Candle Lighting Day

December 14, 2025 / Mama Fish

Today is World Candle Lighting Day. It began in 1997 to acknowledge those who have lost a child. The idea behind it is to light a candle in their memory at 7pm local time. It has become the largest global commemoration. In essence, Candle Lighting Day represents the act of illuminating physical and metaphorical darkness. It is a powerful and universally understood gesture of hope, memory, and unity. A fitting way to celebrate our children.

We do this each year. Sometimes with friends, sometimes alone. This year a group of grieving moms are gathering for brunch to share stories over the warmth of lit candles. It will include laughter and tears, and it will bring a sense of comfort through the friendship of a path shared.

A poem is often included as part of the candle lighting. I have written my own in the past. This year, I leaned on the musical talents of the band Coldplay to accompany my ritual. The song “It was all yellow” is about the love of another and the desire to do great things in honor of that love. A fitting theme to the love a mother has for her child.

The ‘yellow’ referring to the stars in the song can also be the yellow flame of a burning candle. And thus, as I light my candle tonight, in remembrance of Zane, in honor of all the children watching us from the other realm, I will hum:

“Look at the stars,

Look how they shine for you

And everything you do

Yea, they were all yellow”

The first time I heard this song, it was sung by a talented daughter of a friend. I had no idea it was one from a band Zane enjoyed. I sung it a lot before he was killed. I couldn’t after, it was too close to my new truth. He had become a part of the stars that were once shining for him. This year, I appreciate the idea that our children’s energy can be seen in the stars. The song has a deeper and more poignant meaning now.

“Look at the stars,

Look how they shine for you,

And everything you do

Yea, they are all yellow…”

F**K Death by Steve Case

December 7, 2025 / Mama Fish

My favorite expression of anything ultimate is the “f” bomb. Yes, not lady like but uttering the word leaves no misunderstandings that whatever the word is related to is big. The book “F**K Death”, states that it is a guide to get you through grief without all the BS that accompanies it by well meaning people and our own evasions. I giggled at the title and felt I had to read it.

The book takes the reader through the five stages of grief with humor and profanity and a promise to help you heal. There is no slow start to this book, the first chapter starts with encouraging the reader to say it. F**k Death. It includes a list of sh*t that might make you feel better. My favorite tip is “…Talk to your dog. (They listen better than most humans.)”

Each chapter explains a stage of grief and offers suggestions on how to cope. The stage of denial, Steve has the reader do an exercise to become present, not focused on the past. Anger, he warns is a loud one, with a list of productive things you can do such as write out all things unfair. While anger is loud, the stage of depression is quiet. It is a big sense of aloneness. It runs deep and manifests in many ways. With depression, we must find ways to say “F**k you, Brain” and do something new.

It is acceptance that always gets me. Steve calls it ‘embracing the suckage’. This stage is all about moving on with your new normal. How do you find a new normal? Why would you want a new normal? I liked my old normal just fine. His tips about creating a new normal were gentle. “Don’t go changing jobs or moving across the country just yet.” Accept your feelings and re-engage with the living. Create a routine. Know the holidays are hell.

The book ends with a chapter about God and a bold statement that the Universe was here first. “The Universe owes you nothing.” It concludes with a promise; “That empty spot in your heart and soul…Grief makes room. Let love fill it.”

I enjoyed reading this book; I am not sure if it is best read in the beginning of grief or years into grief. You must be ok with the language to which I found the best part of the book. Steve has taken the expected stages of grief and illuminated them in a defiant tone that makes the reader better understand the raw emotions that accompany each stage. The book reaffirms it’s ok to lean into the ugly feelings and subtly suggests that this too shall pass. A big promise that whether or not can come to fruition, offers solace to a broken heart.

With Grief’s Permission

November 30, 2025 / Mama Fish

As a kid growing up, I enjoyed American Thanksgiving. My cousins would travel to our home from Montana to join us. The holiday included a trip to Eddie Bauer, shopping for Canadian treasures to take back, like bacon, wieners, Tylenol 222 and Canadian beer. Dinner was the traditional turkey, with all the fixings. It was a favorite time for y’all. We still celebrate it, in remembrance of those days.

This year I noticed how different my favorite holiday has become. Empty. It is without the fanfare of my childhood. It lacks the full table (so many are missing, including my cousins). It lacks the sounds of chatter with a slight drawl. It lacks my mother’s kitchen, small with the window steamed from the heat of the oven and pots boiling. It lacks my father’s presence, rocking in his chair with the dog on his lap, cocktail on the side table, next to the ashtray with a cigarette always smoldering.

This holiday was always about family. The whole family. Not the small Canadian Thanksgiving family. No, American Thanksgiving was big, bold, loud and oh so energizing. It included everyone. It shouted we are together. It contained the sharing of what was happening, what was being planned, and always the latest antics of my crazy southern family. You went to bed that night so full of food, wine and laughter that you couldn’t sleep.

For some reason, this year, the happiness of yesteryear came through the front door, stomping around in my head like a full piece band. Perhaps it was because this year was like any other day. It started off rough, it included too much work, stress, mess and a rush home to ‘whip up’ dinner. It did not contain any extended family. It did not pause any ugly realities. The day had me so totally exhausted that I found myself having a hard cry before my daughter and husband came home to join me for dinner.

Grief. This Thanksgiving my grief sat at the head of the table. It reminded me of how old I am. How tired I have become. I countered it with the game of gratitude. I am aware and appreciative of all that I do have. Then my grief reached its hand across the table to hold mine and whispered to me, “it’s ok to cry for the many empty seats at your table.”

And with that, with grief’s permission, I leaned in, letting my broken heart mourn for all those that once sat at my table. Those who raised me, those I grew up with, for family that shared decades with me. And I cried for those who once sat at my table that I raised, mothered or mentored. For the kids that have sat around my table sharing their dreams, their gratitude at their young age. Including and especially, the twenty-six Thanksgivings I shared with Zane.

This year, I missed the physical presence of my family. All of them; those who join my table in heart and those who join my table in spirit. This year, I longed for the simple, naïve and joyful times of Thanksgivings past.

When Collective Grief Becomes Conflicted

November 23, 2025 / Mama Fish

I have been battling with conflicted grief lately. Conflicted because I feel one way but am expected to feel another way. It has me basking in a pool of self-reflection and personal judgement if I am behaving in the manner that honors my family’s needs without sacrificing my own.

Trying to not divulge too much, as the cause of this new grief is not my story to share, let’s just say that a family member has made decisions which has created a division of opinion and made gatherings uncomfortable if not impossible. And with the upcoming holiday season, I am anxious about where I should be and what I should do and how I should feel.

In the beginning, emotions were raw. Grief had just arrived and each of us handled it differently. I was accused of not being supportive enough as it appeared I wasn’t going to choose sides. With me, I saw we were all experiencing loss and thus my care-giving soul needed to hug everyone, which was frustrating for some.

Then, when enjoying tea with friends, one told me her story of how she was experiencing a very similar situation within her family. She shared how her heart was grieving and yet she felt she had to hide it or be ridiculed. As I listened to her, the actions of her family, the feelings for her person, the frustrations to be all to all, I found a kinship. Two mothers who feel that their grief must be ignored most days to ensure the happiness of everyone else.

Why as mothers do we feel this way. We are not told to do this and yet, we assign to ourselves an unspoken expectation that whatever road our family chooses to travel to support their needs is a road we must also travel with them. It is ludicrous as we know grief is a personal journey. But when there are layered reasons, tribulations, we want to be calm, to be comfort to their woes. How we feel becomes seemingly less relevant.

Moms don’t have strong boundaries, if any at all, when it comes to the wellbeing of their family. But we need them. Our heart is broken too. We are filled with grief and confusion and want to be present. For everyone. Can we create a space to support all those we love without judgement. Can we give each other the freedom to determine how one’s own grief is addressed. Can we be compassionate to the truth that we are all hurting. In different ways, for different reasons but we are all hurting. And can we give leniency to each other to be ourselves?

The answer needs to be yes. Perhaps the role of mother is only to start the process. An unsteady process that requires open communication, the setting aside of ego and the ability to put respect front and center. This doesn’t make collective grief any less ugly. Or easy. Hopefully, it will make room to reduce the conflict such grief carries; to explore collective pathways that will help comfort our grief. As a family and as individuals.

Dear Drew by Melissa Hull

November 16, 2025 / Mama Fish

Melissa Hull is an internationally recognized voice in grief recovery. Her book, Dear Drew, is about dealing with grief, guilt and discovering resiliency. Her experience comes from the trauma of her young son who passed in a drowning accident. Writing this book, she hoped to help the reader create a life bigger than their grief.

She begins by telling the reader to find an agency; this can be a person, place, anything that offers hope when grief first arrives. It is a grounding stone. She then expands on how to strengthen the agency through practices, insight and reflection, each chapter starting with a note to her son, “Dear Drew”.

Her story is about her personal journey of losing her son and the guilt that consumed her. She shares her struggles to keep functioning for the sake of her other son, how the stress affected her marriage and the judgement she experienced from others. Her path to survival was found when she became a public speaker sharing the importance of water safety. The positive feedback of how her talk gave answers, power, and forgiveness became her ability to move forward. At the end of each chapter she shares tips of what helped her that might also help another.

The moment of agency is the notion I found most interesting. She writes, “To find empowerment in pain, we must recognize and seize the moment of agency.” Agency is about living by choice or by consequence. Discovering a (new) vision or goals after loss. With every choice presenting itself, each must ask if it is aligned with one’s value system. Does it open more possibilities to heal. The freedom within agency, to choose or not to choose, gives one control in a life where control was taken away. Recognizing when agency appears, and following the path that is for our better good is how we might rebuild.

Her framework, P.U.R.P.O.S.E. are the steps she took to lead her to a more fulfilling life. Pause & reflect on what matters most. Understand what your triggers and your strengths are. Reach out for support. Pursue small steps daily that involve a hobby or passion project. Open yourself to joy. Set boundaries to protect your energy. Embrace growth knowing that it is never-ending.

As I read this book, I am in awe of the space she now holds after her son’s death. She is a professional grief warrior. I must remind myself that her journey began in May of 2000. Drew was four years old. This book was published in 2025 and is about a beautiful mother who has walked her path for twenty-five years, sharing her truth, her purpose, while practicing her own advice. Her testimony sheds light to how we can morph into something else after great loss. I found her story encouraging and yet it held a gentle reminder that I have a long way to go. Her reassurance is that agency will bring purpose through which healing is possible, even if there is no finish line in grief.

Who Will Cure My Grief?

November 9, 2025 / Mama Fish

As the ongoing parade of medical examinations unfold, I found myself at an appointment I didn’t expect this week. My oncologist, in my last appointment noticed there was mobility restriction in my right hand. He asked if I would be open to seeing an occupational therapist. I said yes. So, when the hospital called with a date to come in, I put on a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt assuming it would involve exercises of some kind. And it did. Just not for my hand.

The young therapist was wonderfully cheery, asking how I found the roads to the hospital that morning as she had found traffic heavy. I agreed and we went into her office, continuing to chat about the weather. She asked if I was open to her starting my assessment with a couple of questions. I nodded. Her first question was what day it is. Thursday. What Province are we in. I stared at her. Alberta. What is the year. My mouth dropped.

I said, “oh my God, this is not about my hand, is it? This is a cognitive test you are giving me.” She was surprised I didn’t know. She explained how my doctors had referred me to her as I had expressed to both, I was feeling more brain fog than usual. She was a behavioural therapist who specializes in dementia caused by the effects of cancer. She admitted that she was testing me from the start; the question about traffic told her I could drive myself. “Are you ok with this?” she asked. “Bring it on”, I said.

My mother passed of Alzheimer’s. There is a 50% chance I could develop it because of her genetics. Of all the health issues I am battling, my memory was not on my radar. Yes, my brain hurts and memory is shoddy but stress, grief, and the multi-tasking I do daily is a more probable answer than dementia. At least I hope so.

At the end of the day, I passed with flying colors. She felt confident there was no memory issue with me and would send her report to my well-meaning doctors. She also suggested a program I could enroll in on tips to keep your memory sharp as you age. I signed up for that.

My health is important, and I have agreed to many courses and tests as we explore the reason for my chronic pain and heart problems. The fact that my doctors are now signing me up to specialists and sending in prescriptions without my awareness is something I questioned. The answer is I don’t mind; I’d just like to be informed so that I can be prepared for the next step. I am grateful they are exploring every possibility.

I keep asking how the emotional state might trigger illness. What role does heartache play in the long-term wellbeing of a patient. You can’t quantify loss. Grief does not show up in a blood test. Doctors are trained to take care of the body. But how do you scan and mend the soul that is broken?

When I expressed this frustration to my nutritionist, she asked, “Have you ever taken a reprieve from your old normal to discover what a new normal needs to be for you?” “No”, I replied. She sighed, “Perhaps your continuing attempt to keep doing everything you did before your grief arrived has caused an emotional burnout”. And with that, I have a new appointment to be seen by a mental health specialist.

The Magic of Muertos

November 2, 2025 / Mama Fish

It’s Dia de los Muertos season again. One of my favourite celebrations because it offers the opportunity to invite our loved ones of the other realm to visit us. I started this tradition after Zane was killed and each year its power of connection is felt stronger.

The altar, or ofrenda, is a space in your home that you allocate to display pictures and mementos of loved ones who have passed. It is a place of honor not of sadness. Decorated pieces you can add to the ofrenda are sugar skulls, candles, marigolds, ribbons, all in bright colors. Closer to the day food and beverage favourites are added to the ofrenda. There is no right or wrong way to embellish this space.

This year I gathered with three other mourning mamas to paint sugar skulls for our altars. It was an enjoyable afternoon of chatter, bonding and sharing of the strength it takes to live in two worlds.

Adding to my ofrenda, my sister gave me a canine skeleton ornament, small and grinning in blue and green shades, to represent my sweet Tango. I added a bowl and filled it with toasted pumpkin seeds, a family favorite at Halloween.

My daughter looked at our ofrenda and commented how many pictures we have. Too many. Yes, too many to which I am forever sad about and yet, this is the time of year where I feel less grief. I feel more connected. I know that the veil is thin now and the signs are easier to appear. It is an exciting time to watch and be open to the messages coming from Heaven.

I have been told by a couple of my fellow grief warrior moms that they understood Muertos through my sharing of the reasons I do this so tried it in their own homes. They too experience the healing effects felt in choosing a place of honor, finding the perfect picture, layering the decorated items among the candles. It is therapeutic to care for those not living here in such a simple remembrance. It is a good mourning tradition. A moment we know is heard as we whisper into the night, “Se que todavia estas aqui.” (I know you are still here).