Tag: #zaneforever26 (Page 1 of 14)

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 / 0 Comments

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 / 0 Comments

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 / 0 Comments

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.

Summer Bucket List Started with Lilac Festival

June 14, 2026 / Mama Fish

The idea of sipping wine on a sunny patio took a turn this past weekend and didn’t disappoint.

I have been suggesting to my friends that this summer we make a bucket list of ideas we want to do to comfort our grief and celebrate our children. Summer has always been a trigger for our family; it is Zane’s favorite season, his birthday and the anniversary of passing. I used to love this period, now I dread it and, in the desire, to reduce the angst of what our short and beautiful season should be about, I am making a summer bucket list.

Bucket list number one, enjoy Lilac Festival. I used to take the kids down to stroll along fourth street, viewing the artisans’ booths and sampling the food. Zane continued going every year with friends; he loved the energy and vibe of a crowd having fun. Attending would be celebrating him.

Payton and I arrived with the agreement that we would shop and stop for a wine on a sunny patio (a bucket list item). When the clouds rolled in and everyone ran for cover, we ended up in a wine bar. Seated comfortably at a window table we watched the attendees scatter about in the rain while we sipped a buttery chardonnay and nibbled on appetizers. It was bliss.

When the rain let up, we paid our bill and went on our way to enjoy surprise after surprise. We bumped into Jake and strolled with him. Kelly, the man who found my phone last year on the highway was working a booth with his wife, to which I had the pleasure of meeting and giving both a hug. (Her business is Modern Whisk and worth checking out!). We had mini donuts, bumped into more friends and ended up on a patio with a group of Zane’s friends in the summer sun, sipping a Jameson-lemonade. Grief took a back seat.

It is such a treat when grief eases. We tend to feel guilty when we catch ourselves smiling, God forbid laughing at life. We are aware that joy is what our loved ones would want for us and yet, we feel more comfortable crying for them, rather than celebrating them. I think it is the pain of remembering, the belief that they are not here. That thinking is what makes living hard.

We must remember our children are here. Yes, it is painful that they cannot be held physically, but if we wallow in that every moment, we miss out on the signs from them that they are still with us. Their energy lives on, and when we ask grief to pause so that we may grasp a beautiful moment, we are living for both ourselves and our loved ones. That thinking is what makes grief bearable.

Zane was at Lilac Festival. No coincidence we bumped into his friends, no coincidence there were bubbles around us, balloons floating by and the bar we were at…. his friend told us, “Of course you are sitting at this table, right here.” I asked why and he replied, “this is the table we sat at with Zane on his last Lilac Fest and my last picture of him, I took right here. He was standing right here.”

I looked over to the spot he was pointing at. I could envision my son, standing there, camera around his neck, drink in his hand. I winked. And he winked back. It’s going to be a beautiful summer.

Where Would You Be Now

June 8, 2026 / Mama Fish

It was seven years ago that Zane was to be walking across the stage to receive his degree. I often think what he would have done with that achievement. It was a business degree he said he needed to acquire the standard of life he wished. As his mother, I had encouraged him to ‘cross the courtyard’ from the business building to the arts building. My son was both; but his passion came alive when he was creative.

His favorite electives in university were religion and creative writing. He excelled in both courses.

His final paper in his religion class he convinced his professor to let him debate that dudeism (from the movie The Big Lebowski), was as much a religion as the others. He aced the paper. In his learning of what dudeism was, he found and took the course to become ordained. We all laughed at how this could be a path to take and he was excited to explore it more.

His favorite of all was his creative writing course. There was a kindred energy with his classmates, sharing and comparing stories related to what they wrote and their real-life experiences. There were two women that Zane loved to share philosophies and writing styles with and through their classes, the topic of life was a common one. I met these two friends at his funeral.

I was standing outside amongst family and friends, when two very beautiful women walked up our path. One was carrying a massive bouquet of yellow roses. The other carried a bottle of whiskey. They approached me and introduced themselves as the friends from Zane’s writing class. In one of their conversations about life, Zane had advised them, that if ever a friend passes, one should bring to their funeral, whiskey and roses. It was the only fitting gift. In his honor, the girls had followed through.

That act still brings me to tears. The philosophical, artistic, spiritual side of my son, intertwined with a sense of humor about the realities of life was what I hoped would have been the path he followed if he was given more time on earth.

It is a common practice for grieving parents to think about where our children would be and what would they be doing if they had not passed. The anniversary of Zane’s graduation is loud this year. In the early years, it was easy to think of the answers. He would have travelled. He would have found his first place. He would have found a job. And I hope that job would have been something inspiring, an opportunity to hone his writing or his photography skills, or his dudeism!

Alas, the future is one more thing that death takes away. It replaces should with wonder. And I believe it is ok to wonder. To imagine what our child would have done with the rest of their life. Past the pain, that this will never be, there is a space that sheds light on what they might have been doing and how that would look and the challenge of how we can, on their behalf, make that happen.

Following through on actions, of our own version of what they might be doing is a way to honor them. I started this blog because Zane loved to write. And he always encouraged me to start a blog. I would say to him, “you need a topic, what on earth would I write about?” To which, in his death, came my answer.

I have picked up his camera and have yet to master it, but I try. I try for Zane, and I know that is all he would ask of me. And in that, I find a beautiful, therapeutic connection to him.

The Purpose of Grief Triggers

May 31, 2026 / Mama Fish

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.