There are moments when time seems to slow down. When headlines stop feeling like news and start feeling personal, and when they reach into our memories, our families, and our sense of safety. The tragedy in Tumbler Ridge is one of those moments. For many of us, grief like this isn’t distant. It echoes through lived experiences, through schools we once walked, communities we’ve loved, and milestones that were forever marked by collective sorrow.
When something like this happens, it doesn’t just affect one town. It ripples outward across the country, touching parents, caregivers, educators, and anyone who has ever loved a child deeply. Today, I’m not writing about policy or debate. Those conversations have their place, and they will come. Today, I’m writing about people, about humanity, and about holding space for grief and compassion.
Behind every statistic is a life. A unique laugh, a favourite snack, a classroom seat, a bedtime routine, a future imagined by someone who loved them very much. Children who were as innocent as they come. Adults who showed up to guide, protect, teach, and nurture. Their existence mattered, their stories mattered, their presence mattered, and that is what we must honour them and hold space for their loved ones left behind. Let us remember that the measure of a life is not found in how it ended, but in how it was lived. In the smiles shared, the friendships built, the kindness they gave, and the love they exchanged every single day.
As Canadians, especially those of us from smaller communities, we understand something deeply, and that is when tragedy strikes, it doesn’t stay contained. It becomes collective. The grief belongs to everyone, and so does the care. This is not “them vs. us.” This is us, collectively standing beside one another in heartbreak and compassion.
Sitting Gently With Grief
Moments like this can stir up many emotions, from sadness, anger, fear, confusion, and protectiveness. All of these are human and all of them are valid. Here are gentle ways we can care for ourselves and those around us right now:
- Give yourself permission to feel; you don’t need to minimize your reaction just because you weren’t directly affected. Empathy is a strength.
- Create calm for children and teens; listen more than you speak. Offer reassurance. Keep routines steady; predictability brings comfort.
- Step back from media when needed; constant updates can overwhelm the nervous system. Taking breaks is an act of self-care, not avoidance.
Ground yourself in the present and try this simple reset:
- Take a slow inhale
- Notice five things around you
- Release your breath gently
- Remind yourself: In this moment, I am safe.
Lean into connection
Check on your neighbours. Hug your family members. Message and reachout to a friend.
Community truly is medicine, not in the clinical sense, but in the deeply human way we soothe and regulate one another. When we share space, stories, or even a quiet moment of presence, our nervous systems settle. We are reminded that we are not alone in carrying heavy emotions. Connection brings grounding, perspective, and a comfort that cannot be manufactured in isolation. Whether it’s a conversation over coffee, a comforting hand squeeze, a simple text that says “I’m thinking of you,” or showing up for someone without needing the perfect words, these simple acts help mend hearts. In times of collective grief, being together is one of the most powerful forms of care that we can offer and receive from one another.
Honour through kindness
Acts of kindness create meaning when events feel senseless. They give us a way to transform sorrow into intention. When we channel empathy into action, no matter how small, we reaffirm the goodness that still exists in the world. Kindness ripples outward.
One gesture touches another life, that life touches another, and suddenly, even in grief, something healing begins to grow.
Choosing Love in the Aftermath
Resilience does not mean we are untouched by grief; rather, it reflects our ability to continue loving, supporting, and showing up for one another even when our hearts feel heavy. Hope is not denial, and it is not pretending that pain does not exist. Hope is courage, he quiet belief that compassion still lives within our communities and that healing, however gradual, remains possible.
Across small towns and big cities alike, Canadians consistently demonstrate something beautiful: we gather together, we comfort one another, and we hold space for collective sorrow and healing. This shared humanity is powerful. It reminds us that no one has to carry grief alone. Today, we pause together. We remember. We grieve. We honour. We hold the families, friends, caregivers, educators, and the entire Tumbler Ridge community close in our hearts. To those impacted, please know that you are not alone, your pain is seen, and your loved ones will be remembered with care and dignity.
As we move forward, I encourage each of us to walk gently and thoughtfully through whatever emotions arise. May we continue choosing empathy over division, compassion over judgment, and love over fear — because it is love, above all else, that carries us through.
Cheers,
Coach Jo <3
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