About 15 years ago my mom and I went to Manitoba and retraced all the the little towns she grew up in. She was born in 1922, the oldest of 5. Hard times...

In one little prairie town (Seven Sisters Falls), we stopped the car at the tiny school that still existed. She said "see that field that goes on forever?" Yes, I said. There was a house about a mile or more on the other side of it where her family lived. She was about 11 or 12 at the time. She told me how she trudged across that field in the winters with 3 siblings trailing behind her carrying everyone's lunch for the day. As usual for those times, too much responsibility at too young an age. When she reached the school house, the teacher who rented a room directly across the street (she pointed it out) from the school gave her the strap for being late on several occasions. I asked her if she ever told her parents about this and she said no because they had enough on their plate and she didn't want to burden them.

I never loved my mom more than at that moment. We don't know what tough times are.

My mother declined over a period of 30 months, and during that time, our roles steadily reversed. I loved her dearly, relying on her strength, and I grieved for her as she retreated from my life.

The morning after her death, my first emotion was relief: I would no longer have to worry and her suffering was over. That relief quickly mushroomed into overwhelming grief, and it would take me time to learn to live without her. The death of a mother is the first sorrow wept without her.

Just because we have a warning that a loved one will die, doesn't mean we are prepared for the loss. No matter the relationship or the age, few people are ready to say goodbye.

Each of us needs time, space and extended support to heal and hopefully, find peace.

All endings are also beginnings. We just don't know it at the time. I am still on this journey of healing and discovering new beginnings following the path my mother left me. Losing a mother doesn't happen in a moment. It takes years to appreciate the impact of what's gone.