My quiet leader.

My quiet leader.

My Mom did not have an easy life; she lost her father to cancer when she was eleven years old and her mother in a car crash just two years later, an accident that would paralyze both her and her older sister, Joanne. She survived ovarian cancer when I was just six months old. She lived with the weight of guilt, shame, and secrets so heavy it should have crushed her. And it did, but you would never know it.

My Mom chose the light path in life. She masked her shame with laughter, her guilt with grace, and her pain with love. She lived to serve others, to spread joy and happiness, to care for people with a passion unmatched by anyone I have ever met.

My Mom was a religious woman who didn't preach. She guided with actions, not words. She spent her free time running Sunday schools and youth groups, singing in choirs, teaching piano, and visiting members of her community whose children had disabilities, offering them care at no cost. I asked her last week if she had any regrets in life, one of them being that she wished she had been able to work with more special needs children because "their spirits are the most beautiful".

My Mom loved me. She was my teacher, my cheerleader, and my champion. She had high expectations and I worked hard to meet them. She was the kind of mom who sat you down every morning before school to practice multiplication tables, prepare for spelling bees, make sure your schedule was filled with activities, and take every opportunity to tell you how special you were. I never questioned whether she was proud of me. She gave me a big "E" ego and it has served me well.

My Mom, however, was a small "e" entrepreneur with a small "e" ego. Over the course of 30 years, hundreds of children were placed in her home daycare, she charged modest rates, probably never turned a profit, and provided a product of unmatched quality. She loved those kids and I am honoured to have shared that love, devotion, attention, and care with all of them. In many ways, they are my family.

In 2018, six weeks after Elliotte was born, we found out my Mom had breast cancer. If she was scared, concerned, or angry, it never showed. She would tell me that "her little angel was sent to keep her safe." She lived to see Ari and I get married and a few months later we let her know another angel was coming to protect her and she let us know she was healed. That was a beautiful year.

My Mom had "retired" while in treatment but within days of surviving cancer for the second time in her life, she announced that Grammycare was open for business. In the last two and a half years, I was blessed to relive the best parts of my childhood all over again. Our girls were in the care of someone who had perfected the art and science of nurturing little people. Watching her work was incredible and Ellie and Cordie's foundation could not be stronger, which I am forever grateful for as they now prepare to navigate life without their biggest teacher, cheerleader, and champion.

On April 29th, my Mom found out her cancer had come back, spreading through her lymph nodes to her liver and lung lining. On May 28th she was moved into hospice care, her liver failing her.

From her bed, my Mom spent her final week on Earth serving others, spreading joy and happiness, and passionately caring for the people around her.

One morning I arrived in her room and, as I was entering, two nurses were leaving...tears in their eyes, chuckling. I asked Mom what was up with them to which she responded, "Oh they had a rough night with another patient here but I told them to sit down for a while and we talked and talked and talked. I think they were here for two hours, such wonderful people. I hope I cheered them up." They stopped me on my way out later to let me know she had done just that. They got the Liz Hale experience, delivered on her deathbed. I wasn't surprised.

My Mom had very simple wishes for me; to let the staff at Rudy Shenkman Hospice know that they made her final experience so beautiful, to be there for my Dad, to love my wife, and make sure my girls were prioritized above all else.

In lieu of flowers, please honour my Mom's wish and donate to Rudy-Shenkman Hospice. It was a beautiful experience for all of us. https://www.hospicecareottawa.ca/donate.html

"Finding your dad was the best thing that happened to me and Arielle is the best thing that happened to you. Don't screw it up." She is. I won't.

"Please don't let my girls forget about me. I love them more than you will ever know." I do know. And I won't.

Yesterday morning, I sat beside Mom while she was resting. Around 12:30, she opened her eyes and said "Hey you!" I smiled, held her hand, and said "Hey Mummy, I'm glad you're awake. I'm going to go make the girls lunch and put them down for their naps and then I'll be back to see you again."

"Okay, baby." Her final words to me as she closed her eyes. Her girls were prioritized, she was at peace.

My Mom. My love. My quiet leader.