My Grief Journey: The One Year Anniversary

My earliest memories are gleaned from pictures. They include all three of us girls, or homemade cakes that my mom would bake for our birthday's, or pictures of me climbing trees in my Sunday dresses. I remember fondly when my mother had my aunt come and live with us to help her, as she had three little girls under three years old. My auntie and I had a strong bond; we would pick berries together, cook together in the kitchen, and I would be her card partner for games nights.

I remember when we moved to Kelowna and bought a house. As my older sister was autistic, my mother took her and us girls to all of the neighbors' houses to introduce us. Mimi would wander, and my mom was worried that if she got out of the house, that she would keep walking until someone stopped her. In the 80's, the closest door monitor system we had was a doorbell that rang every time the front door opened. She asked the neighbors to keep an eye out for Mimi. Over time, she built relationships with our neighbors that allowed our family to have a sense of community in the neighborhood, knowing that we could trust the people around us.

The seasons change and time passes, but I will always look up to my mom.

I enter grade 7, and this year, I had a new strategy for getting through the year. I have always been an A student, completing my work on time and excelling in school. This year though, I am burnt out. I struggled to keep up with the schoolwork and the demands from home. My parents were both working parents, and my mom often worked night shifts and would sleep during the day. She also suffered from migraines that would keep her in bed for days at a time. This meant that I was the one cooking the meals and taking care of my sisters. I decided that year to prioritize my home life and to take a break from homework.

I remember Mr. Rossi pulling me aside in the fall and asking why I haven't been completing everything and wasn't maintaining my grades. I explain that I am struggling to manage home and school life, and am going to pause on the homework. He tells me I can achieve more if I start doing the work and that I have potential. I remember my stomach churning and feeling as if I am disappointing yet another person. But deep down I know that I am going to burn out if I don't let something go.

The seasons change and time passes, but I never see my mom.

By the time I entered Grade 11, I had decided to transfer to public school. I wanted a fresh start and a break from the church. I had already entered my rebellious phase, as my mother so lovingly called it. I spent my days at school and my weekends with friends, often attending parties.

My parents sat me down one day and my dad told me that if I was ever in trouble, to give them a call. He would pick me up, no questions asked. My mother, clearly upset by this, told me, "You can call, we will pick you up, but there will be consequences."

The seasons change and time passes, but I stopped calling my mom.

When I graduated high school, I picked the furthest University I was accepted into and called that home for the next four years. University was where I settled down, met my Husband, and made life long friends.

I started University with the hopes of going into medicine and getting a Bachelor's in Science. I quickly detoured, and my first year was spent exploring a variety of topics, from psychology to sociology and even anthropology. By the time I entered my second year, I was feeling lost and unsure where my University experience was taking me. I didn't want to waste my time or money, and knew that I needed to decide quickly which path I was going to take.

When I finally settled on becoming a teacher and getting my Education degree, I called my parents to let them know.

Besides being relieved that I had finally decided what I wanted to do with my life, my mom said, "Well, it's about time you figured that out. You spent your childhood organizing and taking care of everyone, so I always knew you were going to be a teacher."

The seasons change and time passes, but I start calling my mom.

"During summer vacation, I called my mom, crying. I was embarrassed by yet another public failure and unsure how I would ever take all three on another outing by myself. I had stopped at our neighbourhood coffee shop for a treat on our way home from running errands. I thought I had successfully managed to get everyone a treat without a meltdown in the store. Back at the car, Devon threw her ice cream and refused to let me buckle her. The screaming lasted for what felt like hours. The boys were in the back seat crying, tears were streaming down my face, and people on the street had gathered to watch. I have never felt so alone and embarrassed in my life. My mom’s advice that day became my guide.

Hold your head high. Through the chaos, through the looks and glares, do what you need to do for your children, knowing that you are doing the best for your family."

(excerpt from The Mom Babes Anthology 3, chapter written by Koryn Heisler).

The seasons change and time passes, but I will always need my mom.

Zachary's 10th birthday came just after COVID, and we had moved houses. We had a family dinner planned and have kept things low-key. It's been another tough year and my parents have decided to drive up to help us celebrate. I have ordered dinner and bought a few presents, but I can feel the disappointment. Zachary loves his birthday and enjoys celebrating it in a big way every year.

My parents walked through our door, and my mother was carrying ten presents, one for every year of Zachary's life. She has filled the bags with treats and gifts that offer so much joy and excitement. Zachary is beaming and you can feel the love that my parents have for my children.

The seasons change and time passes, but my kids will always need my mom.

My plane lands, and as we are taxiing into the terminal, I take my phone off of airplane mode. The text messages start streaming in and in that moment, I realize my mom is dying. I quickly got in the car and called my sister. She tells me she will call me back shortly so I can have a chance to speak to my mom before she passes.

I got home, frantically trying to unpack and repack to make the drive to Kelowna, while simultaneously trying to get the kids back in the vehicle and make plans for our dog. My phone rings and caller id lets me know it's my sister. I'm in my bathroom packing up my toiletries as I answer the phone. I can tell she's been crying as she is barely able to speak. My mom is going on life support and the doctor said this is the last chance for us to speak to her. She tells me she will put me on speaker phone and let me talk to her.

I tell her I love her and that I'm sorry. Unfortunately, she was unable to speak back. My sister tells me that she is desperately trying to talk, but the words aren't coming out.

I can't remember the last time I talked to my mom.

The seasons change and time passes, but I will never be able to speak to my mom.

---

September 25, 2025, is the one year anniversary of my mother's passing.

I think she was most proud of me when I started writing and sharing my story with others. My mother used to tell me that I should write a book. Between my teaching days to raising neurodivergent kiddos, there was no shortage of funny quips and stories that she begged to get me down on paper.

I decided to honor this anniversary by dedicating this post to my mom. Writing has helped get me through this year, so what better way to continue the healing than by honoring her through my writing.

I hope that some of this resonates with you, and if you ever need someone to connect with, I love speaking with parents about this journey. You can find me at This World's Ours Centre in Vancouver.

Take care,

Koryn