Before I jump in and write about me, I want to thank you for being here, for opening up this page and getting to know me. My 30 years of life weren't the typical but oh how much I've learned.
I was born in France from a Finnish mother and French father. They immigrated to Canada when I was only 2 years old. I've grew up in Montreal, Quebec. I've studied to become an elementary school teacher as I thought that would be where life would take me and that's what I was meant to do.
However, I always felt out of place, different, misunderstood, a misfit in life. I always thought about the world differently being highly sensible to what surrounds me and always wanted to help people. In a way, I figured that I could do that with children because inside me I always felt like an eternal child, never really wanted to grow up.
Once I finished my studies, I decided to move up North and learn about the natives of Quebec knowing so little about them. I wanted to be immersed in their culture, their way of living and all the teachings. And I thought that I would be able to help them in a way by bringing safety into the school knowing the history. So after a horrible breakup, I decide to move to Chisasibi with my mom and my dog, leaving what I knew behind.
My world shattered.
And for a long time, I thought grief was only about losing someone. But I began to understand that grief can start long before a loss. I grieved the person my dad used to be. I grieved the life I thought my mom and I would have. I grieved the version of myself that existed before all of this.
I was learning how to live with uncertainty, caregiving, fear, and loss, all while trying to keep going.
And somewhere along the way, I realized that grief doesn’t follow a timeline, and it certainly doesn’t look the same for everyone.
My own experience taught me that sometimes what we need most isn't to be fixed or told how to move on. We need a safe space to feel what we're feeling, to make sense of what we're carrying, and to know that we don't have to walk through it alone.
That is why I created this space.
My grief journey started when I was only 19 years old. My father started losing his memory, misplacing his things, being overly disorganized and confused. It was heartbreaking to witness as I didn't understand what was happening to him.
As the years passed, little by little he was losing himself. Although my parents were separated for a few years, my mom never stopped caring for him. He was later diagnosed with dementia and Alzheimer's which came to a shock. That was at the same time I planned on moving up North. My father still being somewhat aware, didn't held me back. I would visit as much as I could and care for him in distance, calling him everyday, checking up on him and making sure his needs were met.
However, every time I would come visit him, I would grieve all over again as a new person was in front of me. What he once was able to do, he wasn't anymore. It was devastating as it lasted 10 years.
On October 25th, 2024 he passed away.
A year later on October 4th, 2025, my mom was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer metastasis to the brain.
