05/03/2025
What We Carry, What We Pass On
I’ve been sitting with the weight of something I wasn’t prepared for—the slow goodbye to my mother.
There’s no manual for this kind of grief. No script for the moment your roles reverse and you find yourself caring for the person who once held you. But I knew one thing: I wanted my kids to be part of this process. Not to shield them from it, but to show them the quiet act of service we owe to those who came before us. To honour the full circle of life.
We were blessed with perfect timing—my kids had just finished university and hadn’t yet started their summer jobs. We took turns doing the 5 p.m. to 9 a.m. shift with Grandma. I did every other night, and my kids covered me on the off nights. It became a quiet rhythm of love, service, and presence.
It hasn’t been easy. I’ve tried to hold it all—my mother’s pain, the legal responsibilities she’s placed on me, the endless advocacy required to get her proper care, and my own heart that is quietly breaking.
And then there are my kids.
Greta, whispering to her grandmother to “stay away from the light,” not ready to let go.
My son, walking in after a few days away, stunned by how much had changed, his face clouded with helplessness.
Another son, unknowingly gifting us a moment of levity by dressing my mom in a hot pink Young LA gym shirt she wore for two days—because comfort matters more than dignity sometimes.
And my eldest daughter, watching every move, worried that even a hug might break her grandma. Oh sweetheart—she’s already broken. We all are, a little.
This is the hard, holy work of family. Of love. Of letting go.
One day I’ll write more about the care (or lack of it) we give to the elderly in our society. About the emotional labour we ask of families. About how I wish I’d understood this sooner—how much I now want to say I’m sorry to those who’ve gone through this before me.
But for now, I’m just trying to stay present. To carry what’s mine. To show my kids what love looks like—not the tidy version, but the raw, real kind.
And to pray, above all else, that my mom finds her peace—surrounded by family, wrapped in love.
