“I could have never imagined the life I’ve had,” was a common refrain in the months before my mom, Dawn, passed away. Her satisfaction with a life well-lived is a source of comfort, as I grieve her absence.

My mom cared for people deeply and unrelentingly her whole life. Born in Bermuda, she was a loving and devoted daughter to the late Olga Simons and Charles Leroy Simons Sr. She and her younger brother, the late Charles Leroy Simons Jr., grew up as part of a large extended family, raised by a collective of aunts, uncles and grandparents, alongside their many cousins. The bonds my mom forged in childhood matured into unbreakable family ties. Even after Dawn immigrated to Canada, Bermuda, she always spoke of trips to Bermuda and time with the family as "going home".

My mom's ability to care for people was also evident in her 40-year career as a psychiatric nurse. She understood that mental and psychological illness don’t negate a person’s humanity. She would strive to treat all of her patients with respect, while offering the best treatment and support she could. She built strong relationships with her nursing colleagues, many of whom became treasured
friends. She spent the majority of her career as a respected and dedicated member of the psychiatry ward at North York General Hospital in Toronto. To this day, folks who worked with my mom tell me about the impact her warmth, kindness and care had on their lives.

She had a similar impact within the community, as a member of Trinity Presbyterian church, where my mom served for many years as an elder and member of the choir. Being able to express herself through song each week was a tremendous source of joy for her. She was always prepared to contribute to bake sales, clothing drives, or any church initiative that involved supporting folks seeking help. Rarely did my mom and I have a conversation that didn't include a passionate and comprehensive overview of her service through the church. Especially meaningful to me was her advocacy for the Presbyterian Church of Canada to recognize and uphold the human rights of queer folks. My mom loved her church. She believed that anyone else who loved it should be welcomed and included as she was.

And finally, as a parent. My mom loved me the absolute best way she could every day we knew each other. I simply don't know how to encapsulate our relationship, or what her dedication as a parent meant to me, in a brief paragraph. Everything she did - from the delightful backyard vegetable garden she made me when I was small, to her infuriating refrain of, "I hope you're wearing a hat in this cold," when I was middle-aged - everything came from a place of love. She loved me, she loved my partner, Phil, and she loved our son, Aaron, with everything she had.

And although I grieve her passing, I know how blessed I was to have a kind, caring mom who lived and loved well. And that truly is a comfort.