Honouring Through Healing: Reflections on Loss, MAiD, and New Beginnings in 2025
While many people were celebrating New Year’s Eve at parties and events, I spent the evening reflecting instead of celebrating. This holiday season was the first since my grandmother and mom passed away through MAiD in 2024. It’s a strange and bittersweet feeling. 2025 is a year they will never experience—a year our family will face without them.
Yesterday, I took my dog for a walk along the forest trails. Before Mom passed, she told me that whenever I wanted to connect with her, I should go into nature—that she’d be there with me. Since her passing in April, those walks have become my sanctuary. I often find myself talking to her, sharing how much I miss her, and how hard it’s been to move forward.
As I walked, I reflected on 2025 and what it needs to represent for me: a year of new beginnings. In that moment, I realized I needed to be honest with her—truly honest—and let go of some of the emotions I’ve been holding onto.
Letting Go of Guilt
Every walk begins the same way. I pass through the gates at the end of the road, stepping into the trees, and say, “Good morning, Mom.” But yesterday was different. Before I could even speak, tears streamed down my face—not the tears of heartbreak I’ve grown accustomed to, but something else.
These tears felt like release. A release of the guilt I’ve carried—the belief that if I let myself stop being sad, I’d somehow be dishonouring her memory. It’s a heavy burden, one I hadn’t fully recognized until that moment, like a lump in my throat I couldn’t swallow.
Instead of my usual “Good morning, Mom,” I stood there, crying, and told her something I hadn’t dared to say: I need to move forward. As I spoke, a familiar warmth washed over me—a sensation I’ve known my whole life, like her hug and the way her love radiated through me. It felt like her way of saying, I understand. I love you.
Moving On Is Honouring Them
My mother had been sick most of my life, and I always put her needs above my own. She was my mom, and taking care of her was second nature. But it also meant that, at times, I didn’t fully share how I was feeling. Maybe I was trying to protect her, or maybe I didn’t want to give her something else to worry about.
Yesterday was different. For the first time, I told her that moving on wasn’t about forgetting her or my grandmother. I’d still come to nature to talk to her, but I couldn’t stay trapped in the pain and sadness. And as I said those words, I felt her presence, as if she whispered back, “It’s okay, son. I understand and love you.”
That realization hit me deeply. Moving on from their passing doesn’t mean leaving them behind—it means honouring them. Sitting by their bedsides as they chose MAiD reminded me of the preciousness of life and how much of a gift it is. They chose to end their lives with dignity and peace, and I want to honour that by living fully.
None of us know how much time we have. Life can change in an instant, and I know I need to live this life for them—and for me. I can almost hear my mom cheering me on, urging me to chase my dreams and goals, and saying, “Don’t take life so fucking seriously.”
My Hopes for 2025
2025 will be a year of transformation. I want to change the way people view MAiD—whether for themselves or their loved ones. To do this, I’ve started a documentary project on MAiD to create more understanding and foster meaningful conversations about the topic.
If you’ve experienced a MAiD passing, I’d love to hear your story. Please feel free to reach out.
Wishing you love and prosperity in the year ahead,
— Chris
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