09/26/2024
Tomorrow is my last day I have been reflecting on this for weeks now. My heart aches with the end of this chapter. I first walked into hospice Dufferin 9 years ago. I was desperate for art therapy practicum hours. I was 4 months pregnant. As I walked in, I also held onto my own fear of grief and palliative care. I was in grade 6 when I experienced my first heartbreaking death of my Poppa. He had aplastic anemia- a disease at that time was difficult to treat. The loss of him was devastating. Shortly afterwards I would deal with the loss of my Gram, and my mom’s own cancer diagnosis. I dealt with this pain through art. The emotional pain was too much for anything else. I remember in university taking a death and dying class. I remember hoping it would help me work through my own pain (it didn’t by the way- knowing the stages of grief isn’t the only thing to know about grief). At that point I decided I would never do any sort of social work with death and dying. It was simply too painful. During that course I was also dealing with the anticipatory death of my Grandfather, I mourned as he remembered less and less. This further solidified my no grief counselling decision. Fast forward, as I sat in Maureen’s office trying to convince her and myself that art therapy was needed for hospice in Dufferin and I had to get comfortable with being uncomfortable. The training I had for always having a blank neutral face was thrown out the window as I shared tears, held hands, listened with my heart, held space and held hope, held sadness while sometimes laughing at the same time. I am forever grateful to for allowing me to heal, allowing me to hold onto my own grief, knowing grief never fully leaves us, it’s always the love we hold onto.