“I came to realize that it was not scientific facts of loss that I sought, but the emotional knowledge of how to navigate the darkness of grief that would offer me clarity and healing.”

For much of my life, I’ve lived in close conversation with loss – through illness, chronic pain, and the deaths of people I deeply love. Grief arrived in many forms, sometimes expected, often not, and always altering the landscape of my life. There were moments when I felt unmoored, confused, and silent. I didn’t yet have the language for what was happening. I only knew that something profound had shifted, and I was trying to find my way through the dark.

For a long time, research was how I tried to make sense of everything. I believed that if I could just learn enough – read enough, understand enough – I might find clarity. But when I became a caregiver and witnessed the long, laboured death of someone I loved, I realized that facts alone couldn’t guide me through the emotional terrain of grief. What I needed wasn’t more information. It was companionship, grounding, and a way to walk through the shadows without feeling alone. I came to see that clarity and healing wouldn’t come from scientific explanations of loss, but from the emotional knowledge of how to navigate the darkness itself.

After that loss, I went north.
Where the nights are long, the light is fleeting, and winter softens sharp edges under snow.
I snuggled into a small cabin in the woods, I let myself be still.
I let grief take shape.
I listened.

And in the silence, I found the beginnings of a new path – a way of tending to death, dying and grief with intention, compassion, and presence. That journey brought me to train as an End-of-Life Doula, answering a calling I had felt for years: to help others navigate what can feel like the most disorienting and tender time in life.

I joined community hospice and began supporting those nearing death, as well as the beautiful people who love them. Through SickKids Hospital Learning Institute training, I became a children’s grief and bereavement support, guiding families as they help little ones make sense of big emotions. Later, I studied with David Kessler (Grief Expert), deepening my understanding of grief to become a Grief Educator. Along the way, I have witnessed the many ways love and loss are intertwined: the quiet goodbyes, the anticipatory grief that starts long before death arrives, the deep exhaustion of caregiving, the courage of families who sit vigil, and the sacred softness of final hours. I have seen how grief reshapes people – and how connection, ritual, and gentle guidance can help them find their bearings again.

My work is not about fixing grief throughout the dying process.
It is about walking with people through the winter of it –
helping them feel less alone,
helping them find steadiness,

Along this journey, I’ve come to see the beauty and quiet knowledge held within the winters of my life – the way meaning hides beneath the surface, waiting. And I am grateful to walk alongside others as they navigate their own storms, helping them remember that even in the coldest seasons, the seeds of self, community, and connection remain, ready to be nurtured as they slowly emerge from the long winter of grief.