One of my very best friends is, unfortunately, in the same club as me – the "dead parent" club. It’s a club no one wants to be part of, but sadly, grief doesn’t give us a choice. Her dad, Peter, passed away just over eight years ago, and though he’s gone, we remember him fondly with laughter and love.
Not long after Peter passed, a friend of his came up with a beautiful idea: a memorial golf tournament. This annual event became a way for his family, friends, colleagues, and church/choir/baseball/hockey/curling community to gather, celebrate Peter’s life, and keep his memory alive. The day is spent reliving the jokes he’d tell, recounting the moments that made him such a beloved man, and honouring his legacy. Over the years, I’ve had the privilege of being part of this event, sometimes as a golfer, other times as a volunteer. Each time, I’m reminded of how deeply our loved ones continue to shape our lives, even after they’re gone.
Yesterday, I spent the day at this year’s tournament, and despite the rain and unseasonably cold weather, it was a beautiful day. I only had the pleasure of meeting Peter a handful of times, but each day I spent time with him, I walked away with additional memories that make me laugh. Attending the golf tournament gives me a chance to get to know my best friend's dad through all the people who loved him the most, and it's amazing. The number of stories shared about Peter yesterday - some that led to eyes full of tears, some that led to hysterical laughter - was amazing. The golf tournament is more than just a day out on the course – it’s a space for Peter's people and their extended family and friends to laugh, reminisce, and heal. The experience reminds me of how grief, while heavy, can also be woven with moments of light and connection.
One of the most inspiring things Peter’s family did after he passed was set up a Memorial Endowment Fund in his name. Rather than using the money donated in his memory for a one-time charitable contribution, they created a lasting impact. The endowment fund works in such a powerful way – the principal is invested, and each year the interest earned is donated to a worthy cause. The beauty of this is that the money donated in his memory doesn’t end; it continues to give back to the community, year after year, in perpetuity. It’s such a profound reminder that even though he’s no longer here, his spirit still contributes to the world in such an impactful way.
In my own journey of grief, I often find myself thinking about how we honour our loved ones. There’s no single right way to do it. Whether it's through memorial events, like Peter’s tournament, or smaller, more personal rituals, what matters most is that we keep their memories alive in whatever way feels right to us. Grief changes over time, but love and remembrance remain constant.
As for what happens after we lose someone, I don’t exactly know what to believe about the afterlife. But if there is one, I like to think my mom has found Peter by now. I imagine her wrapping him in the same love and comfort she always gave to those around her, while he makes sure she’s laughing, as he always did with the people he loved most.
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