If you've navigated loss or grief, you understand its rhythm—it moves like the ocean. One moment, there is perfect, absolute calm. The next, you are caught in a chaotic storm, struggling simply to gasp for air between the relentless, crashing waves. Recently, the weather has turned against me. I've found myself increasingly overwhelmed, forced to retreat and search for calmer waters hoping the storm passes. I experienced a similar pattern around this time last year as well so it would be logical to simply see this as a symptom of the holidays approaching and a reminder that we will be creating new memories without the ones we miss so deeply. For me though, I’ve been exploring my own feelings at a deeper level and our grief counsellor from Canuck Place recently shared the perfect line to describe how I’ve been feeling: Duality of Grief. Duality of Grief If you don’t mind, I’ll circle back to the first lines from this post. Grief moves like the ocean. Calm in one moment and chaot...
It’s hard to believe it’s been nearly four months since my last blog post. Summarizing the past few months in a short piece is no easy task, but I’ll do my best to catch you up. Hope In Every Spot I want to pick up where I left off last time. It was a few days after our first event and I was feeling overwhelmed with gratitude. The impact from that day has stayed with me ever since. In early June, we delivered our first batch of gifts to BC Children’s Hospital, and we’ve continued making regular deliveries since then. Our next drop is this Friday. Thanks to your generous donations, we should have enough for drops throughout the rest of this year. In addition to the regular drops, on July 16, we celebrated Sofia’s birthday by delivering 27 special gift baskets—one for each bed on the Oncology floor. Each basket contained a plush lion representing strength, a handmade crochet ladybug symbolizing hope, along with gift cards, activities, stickers, bookmarks, and toys. These were given to th...