Mommy Maddie Blog

We didn’t celebrate the way we planned… but something even more meaningful happened.

We didn’t host the party we had imagined. No decorations, no big meals, no games filling the house with noise and laughter. And yet, this became one of the most meaningful and special Lunar New Years I’ve ever experienced.

This year, we honoured my grandpa.

He passed away at 94, and in the later years of his life, we were lucky enough to witness a side of him we hadn’t really known growing up. He always had a tough exterior — always working, always busy, rarely still. We were used to seeing my grandma as the warm, ever-present one.

But when my grandma began experiencing dementia, everything shifted. He became her primary caregiver — and what a caregiver he was. Patient, attentive, gentle. It was an incredible transformation to witness. He became so present in all of our lives too — showing up faithfully for weekly Thursday family dinners, beaming with pride, showering us with compliments, and constantly expressing how happy he was to see our families growing.

It felt like we were given a precious window into a softer, quieter love that had always been there.

I went back to Calgary to be with family as we made funeral arrangements, and I’m so deeply grateful for that time. We have a big, closely knit family, and while everything felt heavy and tender, we were also wrapped in warmth. We sat together, shared meals, told stories, helped one another, and simply existed in the same space. I left feeling both deeply sad and completely held by love.

Being there also made me want to understand our traditions more deeply. Because my parents were first-generation immigrants, many of the funeral customs weren’t fully familiar to us. We were incredibly fortunate to have guidance from my grandma’s nephew, who helped us navigate what everything meant and why it mattered. There was something grounding about learning the rituals – about understanding how culture holds space for grief, remembrance, and transition.

Amid the heaviness, life was also unfolding in the most beautiful ways.

I spent time with my cousin and her brand new baby girl – so tiny, so peaceful, so full of possibility. We helped meal prep, took turns holding her so my cousin could rest, and soaked in those quiet newborn moments that feel suspended in time. Being able to care for new life while honouring a life that had just passed felt profoundly meaningful… like witnessing the full circle of family in motion.

Moments like these always make me think about moving back to Calgary. I even told my mom we should try visiting quarterly, just to stay more connected and present with everyone.

But the most special part of the trip – without question – was my grandma.

Spending time with my 92-year-old grandma is something I will treasure forever. She has always been warm, cheerful, and welcoming… and somehow, her dementia hasn’t dimmed that light at all. If anything, it has amplified it. She is always delighted to see you. Her smiles are immediate and genuine. Her hugs are long, warm, and filled with pure feeling.

She may not remember everything – but she feels joy so deeply. And being around her, you feel it too.

This year, Lunar New Year didn’t look like celebration.

It looked like presence.
It looked like family.
It looked like honouring the past while holding the present close.

And in its own quiet way… it felt incredibly lucky.