This morning I got up just before 6am and meditated, did a gentle yoga practice and lit a candle. My mom, after all, introduced me to the world of yoga and spirituality. She passed around 6am a year ago today. And today, I remember.

When my mom was diagnosed with cancer in 2015, she chose not to go the conventional path of chemo and radiation, but blazed her own trail by implementing alternative therapies, diet changes and adopting a “positive thoughts only” attitude. Although it was scary and she had many people advise her against this, she stuck to what her intuition was telling her, and she lived for 4 more quality years, filled with travel, good food (a tiny bit of wine!), she got to see her 3rd grand-daughter born, and lived her life fully. Even until her final days where all of us were falling apart around her, she maintained her positive mindset, finding the beauty in absolutely everything life had to offer.

Looking Back…

Here’s a little background on this firecracker… She was born in 1949 in a small town in southern Ontario, December 14, 1949. A true Sagittarius in all the senses; spontaneous, passionate about life, positive, a big thinker, took on so many things at once, and highly driven and creative. She was the first girl in her school to wear a skort (and it actually made the local news!), and was also crowned prom queen.

Hitchhiking up to the Northwest Territories, early ‘70s??

After graduating from nursing school, her and her best friend hitchhiked up to Inuvik in Northern Canada (like, far, far North… almost as far north as you can go in Canada) and lived and worked as nurses in rural communities. There, locals taught her to sew her own mukluks and how to skin a deer for its hide. After coming home, she left for 7 months and backpacked around Europe and the Middle East.

My mom still continues to blow my mind with her tenacity, and her ability to take a situation and make the best of it. One day while my dad was at work, a pheasant flew into the kitchen window and died. Seeing an opportunity in everything, she collected the bird and proceeded to plug all the feathers, gut it, and cook it for dinner. (I actually remember eating the pheasant soup she made- it was delicious).

My mom was notorious for driving around a red 1984 Toyota Land Cruiser- manual, diesel- it was a beast and it was the best. Anytime we drove around people would always wave at her knowing her by the big red truck- and of course her head of curly hair that filled the driver’s seat window.

Mom, the Land Cruiser and lilacs- circa 1998

She was wildly artistic in painting, carving wood birds, drafting and doing any kind of craft or DIY- and doing it really well. So many of my skills I have now (including my talent for knowing all the words to Fleetwood Mac songs) come from my mom.

Facing Death

It has now been 1 year since the passing of my mom. And still there are times that it feels unfathomable that my mom is now longer Earth-side with us. And other times when I feel her presence so strong around me, every cell in body is lit up, and I’m overcome with such joy. Because I know now in spirit-form she can be present more than she ever could have been when she was in her physical body. And there are times it feels as if I’m looking at the world through her eyes and am absolutely blown away by the beauty that lives here on our planet.

The Fam Jam 1990. I’m the one with the bow… oh wait we all have bows!

I remember being a kid where my biggest fear was to have one of my parent’s diagnosed with a terminal illness and having to face their death and say goodbye. Now in a way I am grateful for it because not only was I forced to face my biggest fear, but I had the opportunity to say goodbye, to thank her and tell her how grateful I was for everything she did for us. For creating such a positive childhood for me and my sisters. She birthed me into this world, and I consider it an honour that I was able to hold space while she transitioned out of it.

The morning after she passed, we sat around her bedside at the beautiful Innisfree hospice, and adorned her hair with azaleas and hydrangeas. We told stories. We laughed a little even, and cried a lot. Our hearts were in a million pieces, and yet there was a peacefulness and deep healing that came by being there.

If you are at a similar place in your life, where you are loosing or have lost someone close to you, just know that yes, it is heartbreaking, and probably one of the most painful and difficult things you will go through. But you will also get through it and be ok. The resilience of the human spirit is remarkable. Death is often a person’s biggest fear- whether it be facing their own mortality or facing the death of a loved one. Our culture certainly doesn’t do us any favours in helping us cope. There is however, a death positive movement that is taking place, and I would highly recommend looking into it should you so desire. I also highly recommend hospice care- is it so gentle and loving, and am so grateful we had one where my mom was able to rest in for her final days.

What Helps Move Through Grief (and some book recommendations)

To be honest, I didn’t read any books specifically on grief and I didn’t seek counseling- and it’s not that I don’t recommend it, it just didn’t feel right for me at the time. What really helps me navigate the waters of grief is a connection to Spirit. I am at my best when I trust in God/Source/Creator, and when I practice being in the present. I have a strong belief that the soul is eternal and death is not the end, but a transition back into spirit form and a return home from where we came. This serves me to point me toward truth and love when I start to get buried in grief.

Many years ago I read a book called “Proof of Heaven” by Eben Alexander. It is a beautifully written book that takes you through a journey to the afterlife. In a way I think this book helped prepare me for loss. I would really recommend reading it if you have any interest in exploring where a soul may go when it leaves the body.

I have also always love Pema Chodron’s books. Two I always recommend are “Comfortable with Uncertainty” and “When Things Fall Apart”. Her mindfulness and Buddhist principals are laid out in a way that is accessible and implementable. I will often turn back to Pema’s words when I start to feel like I’m moving sideways and slipping away from my core truth. Other Buddhist or mindfulness authors I love are Eckhart Tolle, Thich Nhat Hanh and Jack Kornfield. I am by no means an expert at recommending books on grief, but these are some that have helped me during times of crisis. (After my mom died, my dad worked a through a set of Eckhart Tolle daily cards that really helped him stay in the present and not get stuck in replaying the past. Everyday he would take a picture of the card and text it to me and my sisters. I looked forward to it everyday.)

Having a meditation practice and a connection to God is so, so important. When I connect to God (I’m using the word God as all encompassing- but please replace with whatever speaks to you- Creator, Source, Universe, etc) I come back to myself. There’s a remembrance that happens; I am not just my physical body; I am connected to something so much deeper- something that unites us all; I am part of a source energy that is pure LOVE. From there I came and to there I will return. And it’s from that place that I can always connect to my mother and other ancestors.

Pray. Ask for guidance. Ask for signs. Speak to the person you’ve lost. Tune into your heart for there you will find them. They are listening. And always loving you.

What I’ve Learned in a Year in Grief

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned since my mom’s passing, is gratitude. Since her passing so many memories have come flooding back to me- things I had completely forgotten about. Like how she dehydrated blended fruit to make a homemade “fruit-roll-up” when I begged her to buy them for me. Or how she searched endlessly for the perfect pair of shiny-red-shoes when I was going through my Dorothy phase… Or how she would go tobogganing with us on our front hill until our toes were frozen… simple things that left a big impact.

And one of the biggest gifts she ever gave me was my gratitude journal. When I was 12, Mom gave me a gratitude journal that I would write in every night. I would list 5 things I was grateful for that day. I was never able to tell her this (because, honestly, I don’t think I really understood until after her passing), that this small act changed my life. I remember as a 12 year-old, staring out the window after a rain and marveling at how green the grass and trees were. I remember having a moment of appreciation for our planet and nature… the beauty of the flowers, the space, the air, the trees… I really believe that dropping into gratitude every night was actually the catalyst of my spiritual awakening as a kid, which lead me on a path to discover so many mysteries and sacred teachings.

My mom was a woman of great beauty. Everything Mom created was with such thoughtfulness and style. Every part of my parent’s house is so ardently curated and put together. Her gardens burst with beauty. She dressed herself with clothes she loved and accessories that were intentionally selected to express her spirit. It has inspired me to live more beautifully- meaning that whatever I touch, I attempt to infuse with love and care, which I believe creates a life filled with grace and deep joy within the soul.

But I think the biggest lesson I’ve learned by far is that I used to think that in order to leave a mark in this world you have to have done something great, or win awards and accolades, or be a public figure who’s done something monumental. But when I look back at Mom’s life, she created a great legacy simply in the way she lived- passionately and fully. By having an infectious smile. By extending a generous hand to her friends and community. By dancing enthusiastically anywhere she could when there were good tunes playing. By raising 3 strong women who are also raising strong girls. In this legacy she is inspiring me to live better.

In so many condolences and notes received from friends and loved ones, one of the common sentiment was that Mom’s smile could light up a room, and her passion and joy for life were truly infectious. It makes me think about how I want to be remembered, but more importantly how I want to effect people around me; inspire those to live more joyfully, and above all be a bright, loving light for my daughter; to guide her confidently through this life, as Mom did for us.

And when I really think about what the meaning of life is, it’s suddenly become so clear: it’s how we love.

It’s how we love.

It’s how we positively impact those around us, support and encourage those close to us, and ultimately our mark in this world is not by the thing we’ve achieved or the money we’ve made, but by how we loved. And when I look back at my mom’s life, she created a great legacy simply in the way she lived; passionately and beautifully, by creating a great
family, as well as raising us to approach the world with enthusiasm, a sense of adventure and a positive mental attitude.

Now she is one of our ancestors. A woman who taught us not to be afraid to go on adventures. Who taught us how to grow our own food. A woman who taught us always to dance- even if you only have a broomstick as a partner. A woman who was never afraid to trail-blaze her own paths, and make decisions based on what her heart and soul were telling her. The line of women behind me is incredible, and I feel their presence daily, guiding me, encouraging me and loving me so very much. I am so proud to be in this line of ancestors, and so very proud to say Brenda Sybilla Dinney Burchell was my mother.

My sisters and Mom and my baby shower Feb 2018

I read this poem by Henry Van Dyke as part of my eulogy, and I’d like to finish with it:

I am standing upon the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze
And starts for the blue ocean.

She is an object of beauty and strength,
And I stand and watch until at last she hangs
Like a speck of white cloud
Just where the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says,
“There, she is gone!”

"Gone where?"
Gone from my sight. That is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull
And spar as she was when she left my side
And she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.

And just at the moment when someone at my side says, "There, she is gone!"
There are other eyes watching her coming,
And other voices ready to take up the glad shout;
"Here she comes!"

And also, because my mom could never resist dancing to this song: