Hearing about the loss of my mother gives me mixed emotions…grief, reflection, and a kind of understanding that only comes with time. My relationship with my mom wasn’t simple or perfect. We didn’t share the closeness that many people talk about, and there were distances between us that never fully closed. But even so, she was a part of my story, a piece of the beginning of my life, and someone whose choices, strengths, and struggles shaped who I became in ways I’m still understanding.

My mom was a person with her own battles, her own history, her own way of moving through the world. And though she and I walked separate paths in many ways, I can still acknowledge the parts of her that were strong, the moments she tried, the ways she cared in the way she knew how.

It isn’t about rewriting the past. It’s about honouring a life that was real, complicated, and human. It’s about recognizing that love comes in many forms—sometimes quiet, sometimes distant, sometimes hard to name. And even in the absence of closeness, there can still be respect, gratitude, and a hope for peace.

As I say goodbye, I choose to remember the lessons her life gave me-the strength to be independent, the clarity about the kind of parent and person I want to be, and the understanding that every person carries unseen stories. I honour her journey, and I hope she has found the rest and gentleness that we all deserve.

Goodbye, Mom. May you be at peace.