A year ago around this time, I lost my mum. It has been a challenging year dealing with the stages of grief that I have learned are not linear. As I have circled from one stage to another denial to anger then back to denial and anger simultaneously to depression to bargaining for all the pain to end and back again to denial. I never thought I would get to the acceptance stage. In fact, I dreaded this time of year because it was the first anniversary of her death and I was afraid it would lead me down the denial-anger-depression-bargaining stage again. As April 11th approached and as the pandemic has continued to unravel, I found myself with a strange sense of gratitude that my mum was not here for it. I felt grateful because my mum worked as a nurse practitioner and after her retirement, she started a private clinic. Up until her death, she was still treating patients. This was after two major surgeries. She would open her clinic every day, public holiday or not. She did not do it for the money, in fact a majority of her patients were from low income families who could not afford to pay for her services. She treated them on credit. I found myself selfishly grateful that my mum was not here for the pandemic because she would be working. Nothing would have stopped her. I felt strangely grateful when I saw other people talking about how hard it was to convince their older parents to stay home during this pandemic. If my mum was still alive, me and my siblings would be in that boat trying to convince our 74 year old mother to stay home. In her devotion, she would be putting herself at risk and we would have been worried sick about her. Even though I now know that grief is cyclical and anything could trigger the other stages, in this moment I am grateful my mum is not here for this. I have found acceptance.