“xx” at the Hospice Society gave me the tools to better understand my grief, to move through it, and most of all understand the value of talking about it. Not only did “xx” help me work through my grief, she helped me better understand who I am at my core. She helped me process all of the emotions I was feeling and ones I didn’t even know I had.

I am not sure I could ever express the gratitude I have for the Hospice Society, they were the light in a very dark time in my life.

Working through grief takes time, commitment, and support from those around you. I encourage people to reach out to the Hospice Society to utilize their resources, it changed my outlook on life.” A.W

When I was first diagnosed with, of all cancers available, tongue cancer, I thought either God was pissed at me saying — “if that doesn’t shut him up what will” — or maybe God has a sense of humour like me. …When we first met I had lost a valuable gift, empathy… when I learned of my cancer and life expectancy all I felt was — oh well — it don’t mean nothing, I was already dead. Just talking brought back some of who I was and brought me back to the living. And the bonus, proving the dr. wrong.. not 6 or 7 months — lived for almost 12. There aren’t words to express my gratitude. (Contributed by Rick)

And with counselling guidance, our family gathered the strength to bring the very best of ourselves to Ria when she needed us the most., We were able to honour and cherish the precious time we had left together.

Ria’s strength, grace, courage and generous heart had a lot to teach us about the power of love For this gift, we are forever grateful to Hospice.

Ria would often sign her art cards and letters “Guided by Light and Love” an her spirit embodied these words. Comox Valley Hospice Society is an organization whose heart and spirit also embodies these words and are very much guided by light and love.”

“My husband Glenn and I attended an Advance Care Planning Workshop put on by Hospice volunteers. The knowledge and skills we learned helped both of us to prepare for his death from an incurable cancer.

When we were assigned a new oncologist, we were told that my loving husband had come to the end of the chemo options and that there was no hope. It was the absolutely worst time in our cancer journey that spanned 9 years. In our bewildered and depressed state we sought help from our Support Group. They recommended that we seek counselling from the Comox Valley Hospice Society . After our first session with our counsellor we felt our first wave of relief. We talked and wept and she listened. We were able to navigate the next year with regular check ins and encouragement from her.

Our Support Group folks often mentioned therapeutic touch as a way to relieve the stresses of diagnosis and treatment. My husband and I were able to sign up for weekly sessions of this therapy at the Self-Care clinic that Hospice volunteers offer. We went together to these sessions and we filled up with strength and left our worries behind for a short time.

As my husband neared death we had decisions to make between ourselves and with our doctor. So it was, that on Thursday my husband went to Hospice and on Friday he died. I held my husband in my arms as he gently left this plane. The Hospice is a house of love and caring. The arms of the workers enclosed us in a serene and respectful attitude. I stayed with his body all day and my family and friends were able to come to the Hospice and to say their goodbyes.

After my husband died I was able to continue regular appointments with the same counsellor. More than anything this continuity of service has helped me to grieve in a healthy way. These counsellors are professional and have deep wells of strength. They are familiar with the every day struggles of loss and death. They are the real meal deal.

My husband died just a few months before Christmas. This joyous season was a contrast to how I felt. I attended a Blue Christmas arranged by Hospice. Yes, I cried through most of the service, as did most of the others in the overflow crowd. Hospice seems to know a lot about death and this occasion enabled me to deal with my first Christmas without the Love of My Life.

During the counselling sessions the Hospice counsellor offered me the opportunity to join a small group, all of whom were grieving the loss of a loved one. The focus would be using art and group sharing to travel through our grief. These sessions were led again, by a professional counsellor. And she had heard it all! No matter how horrid, how heart breaking, how depressing our situations were, they were accepted. Some members of this group are still in touch with me. We completed our group sessions just prior to the pandemic shutdowns.

During these times when we are socially isolated Hospice counselling has kept me afloat. I am remembered at the regular weekly meditation sessions that Hospice organizes in a cyber way and that supports my healthy grief. I would rather that my husband and I spend our old age together as a couple. When that is not possible, and it will not be possible for most of us, I remember the loving arms of every single person I have met through Hospice. Without exception their knowledge, skills and attitudes have enabled me to absorb the mysteries of the cycle of life. I am emboldened to follow their guidance and contribute love to the world.

Lovingly submitted by Sharon P.

“My connection with Comox Valley Hospice Society came about very unexpectedly, just as everything else did in the late summer of 2018. My husband Ole and I had been together for a little over 50 years, married for 49 years. Raising children, running a business, volunteering, building homes including the lovely residence here in Courtenay – we had traced the path of many couples. Challenges and triumphs, successes and failures, events both happy and sad – and now here was our time. With children and grandchildren secure in their lives we made the most of every day. Gardening, cycling, hiking; woodworking, music and cooking, simple little getaways, offering ourselves to the community – and relishing in each other’s company. In our mid-70’s this was just about as close to perfect as could be imagined.

A brilliant summer day of fruit gathering at a local farm was the epitome of this time of retirement and golden days together. Then out of the blue a crisis, an ambulance, a few weeks of recovery, rehabilitation, hope and optimism only to be shattered by a sudden death. This was something we as a family just could not comprehend. All our expectations gone and the ghastly realisation that Ole had gone – for ever. The “for ever” part was the hardest to get our minds around. We were all thrown into a scenario that was completely unfamiliar and something that could not be happening, not now, not in this family.

Without going into all the details the following weeks were filled with activity of all kinds – cremation, family and friends visiting, Celebration of Life, documents, forms, meetings, and every day adjustments, all immersed in tears. But at this point I will move forward to explain when CVHS first became a part of my life – this new and unfamiliar life.

I have a kind and generous doctor who had been Ole’s doctor too. In those first few weeks he allowed me to pour out my grief, listening, doing his best to reassure me that in time my situation will ease and become less harsh, less raw. It was not until a small medical matter a few weeks later took me back to the doctor’s office when he was unavailable and a female doctor was there. As she scanned my records quietly on the computer, she quickly became aware of my situation and it was she who looked for resources and pointed me towards Comox Valley Hospice Society.

It was approximately 2 ½ months after Ole’s death that I first made contact with CVHS by way of a brief email outlining my situation. An appointment was set up with Brenda which has led to a warm, kind and helpful partnership. I remember the first insight that struck me was how Brenda put the timeline into perspective. It had been only 2 ½ months since Ole’s death following a 50-year bond – meaning we were a couple for almost three-quarters of my life. So it was hardly surprisingly that the impact of this loss was so profound and the grief so raw.

In addition to spending time with Brenda I was fortunate enough to attend a weekly discussion and support group. This was led in a very sensitive and thoughtful way, my only criticism of it being that the group was too large, making some elements of the interactions more challenging. Nonetheless it was a very useful sharing opportunity, one in which the extent of our losses could be freely expressed. I also took advantage of the self care clinics over a period of a few weeks. It was a great opportunity to just “let go” and be cared for and allow the manifestations of grief to be genuinely shown with no inhibitions.

A walking group was my other experience with CVHS; this was led by volunteers. It too was valuable and the discussion afterwards interesting and helpful.

In addition I borrowed books from the extensive library and CD’s of guided meditation which led me to subsequently attend a meditation course. I have tried to incorporate meditation into my routines as often as I can.

Brenda and I continued to meet every couple of weeks and then less frequently for at least a year, with the occasional contact since then. I was reassured by Brenda’s gentle spirit and impressed with her ability to recall everything we had talked about. She had seen photos, various mementoes and stories of my entire family, and she gathered a complete picture of us in a way that made it seem almost as if she had known us for years. Through her I also gained a greater understanding about my new role in the family and my relationships with my son and daughter, their spouses and our grandchildren. Brenda opened up concepts which I would not have considered, such as how my grandchildren are learning from me and the experiences I have gone through. Frequently I would feel how keenly I needed them and their companionship and compassion, but I have come to realise how much they need me in their lives and what an important place their grandfather held in their affections.

Besides periods of meditation I have created some of my own rituals and remembrances tied to Ole’s birthday, our wedding anniversary – or like so many aspects of our lives – for no particular occasion. The shawl I made from his shirts is a comforting embrace. Scraps from his favourite silk shirt and a sprinkling of ashes have been left in so many of our favourite locations – mountains, lakes and trails. Reading and re-reading kind messages from many people brings me a constant reminder of the important place he held in the lives of so many.

I have family overseas who have also gone through the loss of a spouse and who received little or no support of this type. I feel that they – and some others – tend to regard taking advantage of such support indicates one cannot cope. Nonetheless I consider these relationships with trained counsellors to be a vital part of the grieving journey. It is a long and arduous journey and ideally is travelled to a point of seeing forward more often than reflecting on the tragedy and on the past.

Compassion, support, kindness, understanding, empathy, education – these are all words that easily come to mind when thinking of CVHS. I am definitely a different person from who I was before this bereavement. I know that the loss I feel physically, emotionally and spiritually will linger although as I carve out my new life I hope that these feelings will just be part of who I am but will not define me. I know my strengths – I am resourceful, determined, capable – and as everyone else describes me “strong”. It occurs to me that I have more life to live, more to give and more to receive, and I must make the most of my remaining years. “

Caroline E. – Contributed on December 3, 2020

An excerpt from an article in the Comox Valley Record, regarding the healing story of Anne Aubin.

“A couple of years ago, Aubin suffered a traumatic loss during a stressful time, which led to a breaking point. The severity of her anxiety was making it difficult to cope with day-to-day life.

“My loss rocked my whole footing,” she said. “I had no idea where to go to get on stable ground again. It felt like I was drowning. It (CVHS) gave me a hand, and pointed me towards resources that could really help.” https://www.comoxvalleyrecord.com/home2/comox-runner-supported-by-hospice-pays-it-forward/