Williams Lake Hospice Society

01/26/2026

A year after my spouse died, I truly believed my life had ended too. I remember waking up in the mornings and feeling like there was no reason to get out of bed, no future to look forward to.

Every corner of the house held a memory, a reminder of what used to be. Back then, I couldn’t imagine ever feeling joy again, let alone love.

But life, in its mysterious way, has a quiet way of bringing light back into the darkest places. For me, that light arrived with four tiny paws.

A year later, I adopted my little dog, Zoe.

I still remember the first time I held her, small, warm, and full of energy. I thought I was rescuing her, but truthfully, she rescued me. She gave me something to care for, something that needed me.

Here’s the thing…I had a reason to get up again, to smile, to feel connected to life.

Now, fifteen years later, it still amazes me how much I love her. She’s my shadow, my comfort, my daily reminder that love can bloom again, even after loss. When I look at her little face, I often think how I never would have met her if my life hadn’t changed so much.

We had always agreed not to get a pet. We were constantly busy with work and travel. But after my loss, Zoe came into my world and filled a space I didn’t even know could still hold love.

She’s taught me one of the biggest lessons about grief, that healing doesn’t mean forgetting or “moving on.” It means opening your heart again, slowly, in unexpected ways. My heart didn’t close permanently when I lost my spouse, it just needed time and the right kind of love to soften the edges of that pain.

Our pets have such a powerful way of doing that, don’t they?

They make us laugh when we least expect it, comfort us without words, and love us with pure devotion. Whether they’re still here with us or have already crossed the Rainbow Bridge, they leave paw prints on our hearts that never fade.

I’d love to see your pets…past or present.

Share their photos and stories in the comments below. Tell me about the ones who’ve healed you, loved you, and made your heart a little lighter.

Because love…in all its forms…is what carries us through. 💕

Gary Sturgis – Surviving Grief

01/22/2026

The free colouring book created by our former Board Member, Richard Anderson, became one of the most-visited resources on our website.

Because so many people loved it, we created a new series of single printable colouring pages that are free, easy to access, and simple to use anywhere.

They’re perfect for funeral homes, hospitals, schools, counselling sessions, community programs, libraries, waiting rooms, or printing at home when a child needs a quiet, comforting activity.

Each page gives kids a gentle way to explore their feelings, express their grief, and find a moment of calm. And just like the original book - they’re always free. 💙

https://childrensgrieffoundation.org/resources/colouring-pages/

01/19/2026

01/18/2026

❤️

01/16/2026

Many wonder if hospice means moving somewhere new.

It doesn’t. Hospice is a service, not a building.

We meet you where you are — home, assisted living facility or a skilled nursing facility.

Care should never add stress.

01/16/2026

🚚 WL Hospice Society is excited to announce that we are starting to prepare to relocate our office in mid-March 🚚

Moving to: 77A - 2nd Ave N.

*** We will be joining our Good Buys Thrift Boutique which is moving to 77A - 2nd Ave N. in mid-February ***

Our services and supports will not be disrupted during this time. We hope to be unpacked and settled by March 31, 2026.

Please note our mailing address and contact information will continue to be:

PO Box 4214,
Williams Lake, BC V2G 2V3.

Phone: 250-392-5430
Mobile: 250-392-5435

‘Like’, ‘Share’ or ‘Follow’ us to stay up to date on our next big adventure

Williams Lake Hospice Society & WL Hospice Good Buys Thrift Boutique

01/05/2026

Grief doesn’t follow a schedule, especially for children.

They might wake up feeling okay, laugh with friends at school, feel angry or confused by the afternoon, and miss their loved one deeply at bedtime. These changes can happen quickly, and sometimes without a clear reason.

This is how grief often shows up for kids.
It moves. It shifts. It comes and goes.

One moment might feel okay. The next might feel heavy. Both can exist in the same day, and both are okay.

There is no “right” way for a child to grieve, and no timeline they need to follow.

01/01/2026

12/31/2025

Apparently…I’ve been called out.

Today I asked for suggestions for my next newsletter and a very nice guy asked why there aren’t more posts and blogs about men who are grieving a spouse, a child, or another deep loss. And that question stopped me in my tracks, because he was absolutely right.

For a long time, the numbers on my page told a very specific story. Up until this year, about 96% of my followers were women who had lost a spouse or a child. So a lot of my writing naturally leans into their experiences, their voices, their hearts. Not because men don’t grieve, (I mean…please…who knows that better than me) but because so few were actually here reading along.

But something really cool has been happening lately.

More men have been quietly slipping into this space. The number of widowers, grieving dads, brothers, sons, and male friends following this page has grown in a really noticeable way. They may not always comment, but they’re here, reading in the background, carrying very heavy stories.

So this one is for them.

For the widower who goes to bed in a house that’s too quiet and wakes up wondering how on earth this is his life now.

For the grieving dad who feels like he has to be ‘the strong one’ for everyone else, even when his own heart is shattered.

For the son who’s lost a parent and is hurting.

For the brother who lost a sibling and doesn’t quite know where he fits in the family story anymore.

For every man who has ever sat in his car in the driveway a little too long, just trying to pull himself together before walking inside.

You’re seen here. You’re allowed to hurt here. You’re allowed to miss them so much it aches. You’re allowed to not have the words.

And yes, you’re absolutely allowed to be a man and be devastated.

One of the reasons there haven’t been more men on grief pages like this is because so many were taught the same unhelpful messages: “Be strong.” “Don’t cry.” “Take care of everyone else.” “Keep busy and you’ll be fine.”

Somewhere along the way, grief got labeled as ‘a women’s thing’ and men were handed a tool-belt with only two tools: silence and distraction. Not exactly a great kit for a broken heart.

So to the men here:
• You don’t have to be the ‘rock’ all the time. Even rocks crack.
• You don’t have to have a polished, poetic way to talk about your grief. Grief understands mumbling, half-sentences, and long pauses.
• You’re not weak for missing them. You’re human.

And to my incredible female followers (who have carried this page from the beginning):

• If you have a widower friend, a grieving dad, a brother, or a son who’s hurting, gently invite them into spaces like this.
• Let them know that reading quietly is okay. They don’t have to share their soul in the comments on day one.

And to all you guys that have been following me, thank you for trusting this space with your heart. There will be more posts for you, about you, with you in mind. Your grief matters every bit as much as anyone else’s. And your presence here is not only welcome; it’s needed.

So here’s your official notice: men grieve too…and around here, we’re not going to forget that anymore.

Gary Sturgis - Surviving Grief