Tag: #goodmourninggrief (Page 2 of 17)

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).

The Choice to be Sunshine

October 26, 2025 / Mama Fish

Recently a friend was sharing with me his discoveries about life, living with a brain tumor. The bigger picture is becoming clearer. He seems to tolerate the meaningless details less. He is frustrated by his doctors’ lack of optimism. “They could keep their opinion to themselves”. He worries about the next MRI, the next possible seizure. And he truly misses the sweets he had to cut out of his diet to keep the (new) diabetes under control. His days are different, and he says his energy is now used to enjoy his present more.

He said visiting his ‘old buddies’ has a bigger importance. A priority for quick connections that always includes telling them how much they have meant, still mean to him. He has a deeper love for his wife, appreciating how much she worries and how many more tasks are on her list because of his health. He revels in the company of his children and grandchildren. Having lost his own father years ago, he sees how busy he was then to not fully comprehend his father’s death. Now facing a similar destiny, he talks to his children, planting seeds of fatherly wisdom that he hopes will bring them comfort one day.

He is currently enhancing their yard and hot tub area, which has always been his place of solace. “I want to enjoy it all winter…” his voice trails off. “And you will”, I say. “You never know”, he replies. Day by day, we live in hope that we will see another sunrise. If only we could always grasp life like those who do when death is apparent.

How hard is this? To live each day fully. It seems impossible most times and I wince with envy at the ones who seem to have sunshine follow them effortlessly. My friend’s conversation kept me up all night. What was his secret? Somewhere, in the early morning, it dawned on me. Before his cancer diagnosis, he was sunshine. He still is sunshine. Just more intense. There is no secret. Sunshine is a choice. He chooses to be sunshine, to accept that the future is a gift yet to be opened, that to live in the now is where to seek joy.

And if ‘the now’ isn’t good enough, change it. I have watched him over the last year, change the things that he could no longer do into new things he can do. I have watched his faith grow deeper as he leans on his God as the source of his power. I watched him take control of possible challenges that would arise and solve them before they became bigger. I think the magic recipe to happiness is to know what you want and to go after it unapologetically.

He has encouraged me. The question, what do you want must be answered. He knows he wants a winter hot tub. Thus, it became clear what is needed to be done for that to happen. And the result will be a season of hot steamy soaks for my friend. How blissful is that!

I am going to hold a conversation with my grief. What does it need to be less rainstorm and more rainbow? And when the answer appears, I will chase it with gusto.

A Guide to Meet Your Angels

October 19, 2025 / Mama Fish

The fabulous, connective Mike Dooley of Notes from the Universe, offers 21-day courses of different topics that inspire, educate and enlighten. One course he aligned with Sonia Choquette to teach us about spirit guides and angels and how they can support one’s journey.

We start by considering our own spirit. Who are you? What does your spirit say, what does it want of you, for you? We move on to thinking about the spirit of those in our lives, our family, friends, neighbors, coworkers, understanding that each human body is a unique spirit. This belief enables us to relate to others with less judgement. If we believe that each of us is a soul with individual lessons to learn and to share, then our meeting and interactions with this soul is purposeful.

Next, we begin exploring the idea of angels and spirit guides. Their role is to keep you safe, feeling assured throughout your life. There is a ministry of angels to which you can call upon for different reasons. We agree to being open to the idea that messages come to us through our angels. We practice trusting in the idea angels will help us when we call out to them. It is like praying to God if you wanted to put the concept into a religious term. After all, we are taught in church that angels are the messengers of God.

Finally, we are ready to ‘meet’ our spirit guides. Through meditation and journaling, Sonia tells us to look for simple, repeating signs as messages sent from our guides. They speak to us in many ways such as dreams, jokes, or symbols. Keeping an open mind that such things may be a possible sign your guide is communicating with you, you begin to decipher which ones are meaningful. A hint: angel messages give you strength, leaving you feeling refreshed. And with practice, you become aware which message is coming from which of your angels.

I took this course years ago. Yes, it is much like praying although with its more spiritual lens, it is fun to exercise. If I lost my keys, I would say, “lost & found angels, I need your help.” If I see a repetitive number or symbol, I stop to ponder what is behind this message. I call out a lot to my healing angel for help with my concoction of health issues. Laugh, but it seems to work. Even my daughter, skeptical when I first shared, has asked an angel or two for things. With success.

This practice is another way to strengthen your intuition, to take notice of what the Universe is telling us. We are not alone. We do have support from above. Our loved ones, including our children, are with us, guiding us on our path. Reflecting, I have had many messages before taking this course, that I now know were communications from above.

One strange message came to me on a visit to Canmore right after Zane was killed. We drove into town to see bubbles coming out of a storefront. We went in and on a shelf was a wooden sign. It said, “I think my Guardian Angel drinks.” I stared at it and thought I could see Zane joking about this. Where was his guardian angel that night? And then I smiled. It was Zane saying this. I bought the sign. It still makes me laugh. It is a reminder that divine messages are spoken, we just must be open to listening.