Mourning Breaks

07/25/2025

Mourning Reflection...

⚠️ Content Caution:
Hockey Canada sexual assault trial - London ON

I didn't sleep much last night. Not surprisingly.

Yesterday was verdict day in the Hockey Canada sexual assault trial here in London, ON. A day that held a weight that is difficult to describe, but that thousands of women and gender-diverse individuals know intimately, and have been carrying for months as this trial unfolded.

The grief attached to this very public process has entered the counselling space more than a few times here at Mourning Breaks. Having to bear witness, again, to continued exhausting and legally irrelevant r**e myths, victim-blaming, shaming, and stereotypes of women being tossed about by the teams of defense lawyers (and notably not once corrected by Justice Maria Carroccia) is excruciating, infuriating.

I won't get into the flawed application of Canadian sexual assault law in this post, or why it was destined to go down this path when a trauma-informed lens was not upheld, but know that it is not the law itself at the core of this disappointing verdict. I'll leave that to the legal minds within this sector who have far greater knowledge and ability to articulate why this is a key factor here.

What I most want to say is that it is reasonable and expected to be impacted by this case outcome. Whether you feel sorrow, rage, grief, confusion, numbness or any number of emotions, your feelings are real and valid.

If you feel relief that this trial is over because it has been a constant reminder of your own experience, of the feelings of isolation, of being dismissed and scrutinized, that is also a normal and valid response.

I invite you to hold compassion for whatever you are feeling in this moment.

I see you. 💛

Many have spent a lifetime dreaming of feeling safe enough to speak openly about what happened to them, to hold those who assaulted them accountable publicly, but for a multitude of reasons (and this case is just one example) they cannot.

EM is all of us.

I believe her.

I stand with her and all survivors in their courageous truth, whether or not it remains a silent, internal scream.

As Anova articulated yesterday, "EM deserves privacy, peace and time to heal. But we all deserve systems that survivors don't have to heal from. We need change in hockey and athletics, but also culture-wide. We need care-centred systems, and real commitment towards dismantling environments where women are treated as objects to be used and then disregarded when they speak their truth. We need a public that stands with survivors, not just in headlines, but every day." 💯

No justice was served yesterday, but I want you to remember that VERDICTS DO NOT EQUAL TRUTH, they reflect only what can be proven in a court of law beyond a reasonable doubt.

I want to extend gratitude for the courage, strength and commitment EM demonstrated on behalf of all of us. We will not forget.

Thank you.🙏🏼💛

If you or someone you know needs support, please reach out. This is a space where your grief will be gently witnessed and held with respect and care.

Anova is here in London, too, available for you 24/7:

📞 Crisis & Support Line: 1-800-265-1576 or 519-642-3000

📍 Sexual Assault Counselling: 255 Horton St (3rd Floor), London, ON

07/21/2025

I spend a lot of time reading in my off hours. Always in the interest of growing, learning, unlearning, and supporting my clients in tender, thoughtful, meaningful ways. There seriously are not enough years left in my life to read all the books I want to read! 📚❤️

Here are the latest I’ve added to my bookshelf this weekend. Two new titles I’ve been wanting to read for a little while now, and another copy of a favourite that I keep lending out and forgetting who I lend it to! We’ll see how long this copy stays on my shelf! If you have one of my original copies, please hold on to it, or share within your circles. It really is a treasure.😊💛

🪶 🍉 🕊️

07/18/2025

💛🥹✨

I’m making my son’s lunch when I find out you’ve died—cutting up carrot and cucumber while crying.

He tilts his tiny head, furrows his precious brow, and asks me, “Daddy, are you alright?”

And I remember what you said about truth:

“even when the truth
isn't hopeful
the telling of it is”

So, I tell him, no, I’m not alright—
a poetry angel has taken flight,
and daddy is very sad about it.

I know it sounds far-fetched but
I think he understands—
in the way trees understand soil.
He opens his arms wide as a bridge
and lunges for a hug.

And I remember what you said about heartbeats:

“If you were to press your heart close up against somebody else’s heart eventually your hearts will start beating at the same time.”

I feel a desperate instinct to retreat. Take my sorrow to the spare room, close the curtains, turn off the lights, hide from anyone who might dare to care about me. To lick at my collection of wounds, tired and alone.

But I remember what you said about relationships:

“…We gather each other up.
We say, the cup is half
yours and half mine.
We say alone is the last place you will ever be.”

I call my wife and tell her about a growing ache in my stomach; how unfair it is that a poet of such monumental importance now only exists in memories.

But she reminds me what you said about death:

“Dying is the opposite of leaving. I want to echo it through the corridor of your temples. I am more with you than I ever was before.”

My heart swells grateful as I realise you’re not gone—you’re still right here! In books on my shelf, videos in my feed, words etched in my skull, hope echoing through my bones. You’re still here—more than ever!

How lucky I am—how privileged we all are—to have glimpsed your soul through a miraculous lens, a pen dipped in cosmic ink, a voice so authentic it could have been wombed in stars, an immutable spirit set wild and free.

How inspiring. How wonderfully inspiring you are.

I flick through your books, too afraid to land on a single page, in case the words spontaneously combust upon reading; or sprout wings, escape their paper prison to be free—as words should be—with you in the afterwards.

But what I’m most afraid of is the words won’t be the same shape ever again. That the weight of loss presses them into crueler, cruder, angrier creatures; that the meaning will be tainted by mourning.

I feel a tension in the meat of my heart, not a rip or tear, but the start of a long pull—when it releases the flesh will be softer, slacker.

And I remember what you said about hearts:

“In the end, I want my heart to be covered in stretch marks.”

I ideate myself out of existence—
as I often do when down dark. The tricksy little imp, whispering from the back seat, implores me to spin the car off a cliff—to join you.

And I remember what you said about grief:

“That every falling leaf is a tiny kite
with a string too small to see, held
by the part of me in charge
of making beauty
out of grief.”

So I’m writing. I don’t know if it’s beautful yet. Not the way you are. Your consonants dance with your vowels, your sentences have curves and edges, your poetry can sail a ship or bend a spine, dress a wound or slice the moon, while mine seem edgeless by comparison.

And I remember what you said about creating:

“We have to create. It’s the only thing louder than destruction.”

So today, like millions of others whose hearts you squeezed, I’ll create, so that I’m not destroyed. And I’ll let my heart break…

Because I remember what you said about breaking hearts:

“Let your heart break so your spirit doesn’t.”

Andrea Gibson ❤️‍🩹

07/16/2025

Looking forward to sharing space within the This Thing Called Grief community at Western Research Parks. Thanks for the warm welcome, Kim, Sam and team! 💛🌳✨

Welcome Cheryl Wituik to This Thing Called Grief
Registered Social Worker, Thanatologist

Mourning Breaks

We are deeply honoured to welcome Cheryl Wituik (she/her), BA, RSW, to the This Thing Called Grief collective. Cheryl joins us as the founder of Mourning Breaks – Grief Counselling & Support, bringing with her not only extensive training in social work and thanatology, but also a wealth of lived experience that continues to shape her compassionate approach to grief care.

Cheryl’s practice is grounded in the understanding that grief is a normal human response to loss, to broken attachment. It is a sacred experience that requires understanding, patience, and self-compassion. Drawing from her own personal experiences with complex grief, caregiving, and profound loss, Cheryl meets clients in the rawness of their reality, offering a space of calm, attentive presence, and emotional safety.

Her work is informed by contemporary grief theory, somatic practices, and relational care. Whether walking with those navigating anticipatory loss, bereavement following the loss of a cherished loved one, or the quieter sorrows that are harder to name or talk about, Cheryl brings a calm and steady presence. She holds space for what others may turn away from—bearing witness to sorrow, rage, fear, guilt and regret, numbness, love, and everything in between.
Cheryl is especially attuned to supporting individuals who have experienced out-of-order deaths, identity shifts, and various forms of disenfranchised grief. Notably, Cheryl has years of experience supporting individuals in hospice and palliative care, those finding their way after abusive intimate partner relationships, those struggling with addiction, barriers to housing, and broad social system marginalization. She offers a gentle style of counselling that honours and prioritizes each person's lived experience, cultural background, generational healing knowledge and practice. She tends to her clients at a pace that feels comfortable and safe and takes time to explore the physical, ethical, spiritual, sociological, and psychological aspects of each person’s unique grief journey.

We are so grateful that Cheryl has chosen to root part of her practice within our shared space at Western Research Park. Her presence will be a gift not only to the clients she supports but also to our growing grief-informed community of care.
Please join us in extending a warm and heartfelt welcome to Cheryl.
—
To learn more about Cheryl’s practice, visit mourningbreaks.ca
To connect, email her at mourningbreaks@gmail.com

07/15/2025

My love, I want to sing it through the rafters of your bones, “Dying is the opposite of leaving.” I want to echo it through the corridor of your temples,

“I am more with you than I ever was before.”

You will be missed Andrea Gibson. 💛😢💔
Thank you for sharing your heart so fully; for teaching us how to navigate and embrace this wild life with tremendous vulnerability and grace.

(Images via elegy - IG)

07/14/2025

I was out of town helping family today and just now saw the news about Andrea Gibson. A monumental loss for so many of us. Andrea was a lighthouse in this wobbly world. They will be missed.

“Andrea would want you to know that they got their wish. In the end, their heart was covered in stretch marks.” 🥹💛

Andrea Gibson 8/13/75 - 7/14/25

“Whenever I leave this world, whether it’s sixty years from now, I wouldn’t want anyone to say I lost some battle. I’ll be a winner that day.” – Andrea Gibson

Andrea Gibson was a winner today. On July 14th, at 4:16AM, Andrea Gibson died in their home surrounded by their wife, Meg, four ex-girlfriends, their mother and father, dozens of friends, and their three beloved dogs.

Poet Laureate of Colorado, world-touring spoken word artist, author of seven books, Calais Maine High School State Basketball Champion, and subject of the award-winning documentary, “Come See Me in the Good Light”, and so much more — Andrea Gibson accomplished much on their 49 years on this planet. Though Andrea desperately wished to have lived a longer life, they could not have possibly lived a fuller one.

Since learning they had cancer in 2021, Andrea has been a champion of finding beauty in unlikely places and gratitude in the hardest hours. Over the last four years, they danced with their diagnosis, and continually aimed their internal compass toward joy. One of the last things Andrea said on this plane was, “I fu***ng loved my life.”

Not long ago, Andrea wrote a poem titled “Love Letter From the Afterlife.” In it, they offered this line: “I am more here than I ever was before. I am more with you than I ever could have imagined.” Today, and all days forward, we hope you feel Andrea’s enormous spirit and immense presence beside you.

Meg and Heather, the authors of this post, have absolutely no idea how to encapsulate the magnitude and magnificence of a life like Andrea Gibson’s, so they intend to keep writing, to keep telling Andrea’s story, to keep Andrea alive in every way they can.

Andrea would want you to know that they got their wish. In the end, their heart was covered in stretch marks.

Andrea Gibson 8/13/75 - 7/14/25

07/12/2025

Looking for something to do on these sunny summer days? Consider taking a little road trip to visit Miracle Max's Minions and support Childcan at the same time!💛✨☀️🌻

07/10/2025

📣🗣️We’ve moved!! PART TWO - COME ON IN!!

Welcome to Mourning Breaks Grief Counselling & Support - now located within the This Thing Called Grief collective on the beautifully landscaped and forested grounds of the Mogenson Centre at 100 Collip Circle (Western Research Parks) in London, Ontario.

I can’t wait to welcome you to the new space in person soon! 😊💛

07/10/2025

Please share within your networks - an invaluable resource for young people. 💛🙌🏼

https://livingoutloud.life/

On LivingOutLoud.Life young adults and teens are shattering the silence of living with advanced illness. Their stories are unscripted, unfiltered, and unforgettable.

07/06/2025

Did you know that Mourning Breaks offers Walk & Talk grief counselling sessions? These images are from a recent mindful walk on a nearby walking trail.🌳💚

Spending time outdoors (offered all year ‘round) is a soothing sensory experience. Some individuals find it much easier to talk about hard things while surrounded by nature. Being in nature provides a rich metaphor for how we move forward in any journey—one step at a time, one season at a time.

Aside from the aesthetic benefits, decades of research studies have demonstrated the healing benefits of nature connection practices. For example, being in natural environments, combined with gentle bilateral movement (walking) can significantly increase the brain and body’s resilience and integration capacities. Pretty cool, don’t you think? 😊

If you have mobility limitations or prefer not to walk, there is the option to meet for your session at a special bench or in a public park or garden (bring a blanket or lawn chair if you like) and we’ll sit quietly together.

If this sounds like something you’d be interested in exploring, let’s talk!

“There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature—the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter.” ~ Rachel Carson

(Also, stay tuned - more small group mindful walk dates will be coming soon!)

07/03/2025

📣🗣️We’ve moved!!

It’s been a busy week getting everything set up for you and I look forward to seeing you in the new space soon! I thought it might be helpful to do a little walk-through so you can find the new office easily. Once you’ve arrived, simply enter the suite and make yourself comfy in our private reception area.

Counselling space photos to come - stay tuned! 💛

Please reach out if you have questions or concerns. See you soon!