We recently gathered together as extended family to celebrate the life of my Aunt Grace. She was more like a mom to me than an Aunt. My mom and Grace were sisters, and I like to imagine them now reunited in heaven, together with their other siblings, savouring bowls of ice cream, laughing at old memories, and playing their favourite games, just like they used to. Their bond was one of joy and deep love, and that spirit lives on in all of us. Today, I want to share some of the many life lessons our family learned from Aunt Grace over the years. Each one is a thread in the fabric of who we are, thanks to her influence.
Lesson 1: Do the right thing, even if it’s hard.
From the time I was a baby, Aunt Grace was fiercely protective of me. When she found out that we were sometimes left alone in our cribs while Mom ran errands, she didn’t hesitate—she called social services. That might sound drastic, but to Grace, the well-being of children came first, always. That moment changed how things were done in our home. From that early act of courage and love, I learned that doing the right thing isn’t always easy, but it’s always worth it.
Lesson 2: Persistence can open doors that seem closed.
When a two-bedroom apartment opened up at Tabor, Grace saw it as the perfect opportunity to help her sister Viola and niece Pat. She knew they needed a supportive environment, and she believed Tabor was the right place. So, she went directly to the office and made a compelling case. Because of her determination, the apartment was given to them. Grace showed us that when you believe in something—and in someone—you speak up. You don’t give up when others say no. You find a way forward.
Lesson 3: Sometimes cheating is ok, as long as you cheat fair!
Grace loved playing games with the children in our family, and she especially loved seeing them smile. If slipping a few extra cards to a grandchild meant they could win a round—or wrap up a particularly long game of Monopoly a little faster—then so be it. These weren’t just games; they were moments of connection, laughter, and gentle mischief. And in them, Grace taught us that joy was more important than the rules of the game. Love often looks like small acts of kindness.
Lesson 4: Be ready to celebrate life at any moment.
Grace always kept a McCain’s cake in the freezer, just in case a celebration broke out. Whether it was a birthday, a good report card, or simply the joy of being together, there was always a reason to mark the moment. Served with ice cream, of course, these spontaneous celebrations were never about the cake—they were about the people, and the belief that life, in all its small and big ways, should be treasured.
Lesson 5: Strip it down and get to the heart of things.
Some things need to be stripped bear and boiled down. She was talking about chicken soup, but there was definitely a bigger lesson in there. She was reminding us that sometimes you need to remove what’s not essential and let things simmer. That bit of kitchen wisdom holds true in life too. When faced with chaos or confusion, she had a way of simplifying the situation, getting to the core of what mattered, and moving forward from there, with calm and clarity.
Lesson 6: Everyone deserves a seat at the table.
At Grace’s table, no one began eating until every person was seated. It didn’t matter if you were late, young, new to the family, or just visiting—your presence mattered. Waiting for someone to sit was never an inconvenience; it was a gesture of respect and belonging. From her, we learned that community starts around the table, and that inclusion is built with small, consistent acts of love.
Lesson 7: There’s often more going on than you think.
The “penny drop” game seemed like innocent fun—dropping pennies down the spiral staircase to see if they could reach the basement without touching a step. But Grace, ever practical and clever, had another motive. Young Sean, who eagerly ran down four flights of stairs to fetch those pennies again and again, was being gently worn out so he’d fall asleep easily. It worked. And in that moment, she showed us that creativity, care, and a bit of strategy can go a long way, especially with children.
Lesson 8: Time spent together builds the strongest memories.
Around Grace’s dining room table, we played Rummikub, Uno, Skip-Bo, and countless other games. But it was never just about who won. It was about the laughter, the shared moments, the stories told between turns, and the warmth of being together. Those game nights taught us the importance of slowing down, being present, and finding joy in the everyday moments we share with others.
Lesson 9: Challenges are opportunities for courage and care.
When Grace helped move my mom into the Tabor apartment, she didn’t just offer support—she dove headfirst into what felt like an impossible task: cleaning out a house filled with years of memories. It was overwhelming, but Grace rallied help, stayed focused, and got it done in record time. Watching her work with such determination left a lasting mark on me. I carry her spirit with me, and even my kids noticed—they gave me a jewelry box that says, “I can and I will, so watch me.” That phrase captured her perfectly.
Lesson 10: Be prepared to protect the people you love.
Grace had a heavy brown purse, lovingly (or maybe not so lovingly) gifted by her brothers. Inside was her hymnal, but it also doubled as a makeshift weapon—just in case someone threatened her sister-in-law after choir practice. She believed in being ready for anything, especially when it came to defending the people she loved. That heavy purse became a symbol of her readiness to act and protect, quietly and fiercely.
Lesson 11: Ordinary days can be extraordinary.
Trips to the local petting zoo, Happy Ralph’s, were never grand, but they were magical. Feeding the ducks, wandering the trails, enjoying picnics with Rice crispy squares and open-faced sandwiches—it was simple, yes, but the joy was immense. Grace taught us that adventure doesn’t require far-off places or big plans. With love, presence, and snacks, any outing can become a cherished memory.
Lesson 12: Waste not, want not.
One day I brought a tub of potato salad that tasted terrible. I was ready to toss it, but not Grace. She rinsed off the dressing, fried up the potatoes, and served them the next day—and they were finally delicious. Grace had a knack for making things work, for finding value where others saw waste. She recycled before it was trendy, and she did it with purpose and care.
Lesson 13: Sometimes love means thinking outside the cereal box.
When my daughter, Brittany, was a teenager, she couldn’t stomach breakfast. Even though Grace believed that breakfast was the most important meal of the day, she didn’t nag. Instead, she experimented with several sweet, sugary options! . Eventually, she found something that worked: pudding, topped with whipped cream, marshmallows, and chocolate chips. Not the most conventional meal—but it was breakfast, it was somewhat nourishing, and most importantly, it was made with love.
Lesson 14: A handwritten card can carry a world of love.
Grace believed in the power of mail—not emails, not texts, but real, handwritten cards. Her neat handwriting brought joy the moment the envelope was discovered in our mailbox. Each of her cards carried encouragement, prayers, and unconditional love. I’ve kept many of them in a box, and even now, reading her words brings comfort and connection. They are small treasures I will always hold dear.
Lesson 15: There’s always room for one more.
Whether it was a crowded dinner or a quiet moment of conversation, Grace made space. She believed in scooting over, grabbing another plate, and welcoming people in. Her home and heart were places of warmth and acceptance. Thanks to her, our family learned to become “scoopers”—a term coined by my daughter-in-love, Rachel. We scoop up those who need a place to belong, because Grace first scooped us.
Dearest Aunt Grace, you loved us with a perfectly imperfect love—honest, strong, and unwavering.
We promise to carry your lessons forward. To protect, to celebrate, to include, and to love. To turn simple days into sacred ones, and to make room at our tables. In living this way, your love continues—multiplied and shared. Thank you for everything.
We love you always.