I’ve spent the past week wavering between devastation for the sheer loss and emotion brought on by the deaths and injuries of the Humboldt Broncos bus crash, and enthralled by the organic, raw outpouring of love flowing through our country. The stories of loss. The stories of hope. The stories of days gone by and memories and love of hockey. There was the boy that was inadvertently caught on camera having an emotional moment with a stick at the front door. The hockey dad from the maritimes that went to an empty rink to play Amazing Grace on his harmonica for the team. The person on holidays down south that…

On any other day it takes me 15 minutes to get ready. Today, however, I just couldn’t decide what to wear. It’s Jersey Day in honour of the Humboldt Broncos. People all across the country are donning their jerseys in honour of the 16 people that died and 13 that were injured in the devastating crash between the Humboldt Broncos bus and an 18 wheeler. For some, this will be easy. They’ll grab their Canucks jersey that they bought at the Bay during the 2011 Stanley Cup playoff run. Others will feel bereft because their association required them to turn their jerseys in at the end of the season, and…

I didn’t intend to blog about sadness again. I had planned a weekend of writing, watching the Masters and possibly tackling Mt. Washmore. I had plans to hang out with my oldest son and his girlfriend, who were home for a late spring break – because spring comes later in Saskatchewan than here in B.C. My son’s girlfriend hails from a small town just south of Saskatoon. Saskatchewan is a patchwork province made entirely out of small towns – connected by threads of asphalt highways, and gravel grid roads, and train tracks. For hundreds of miles all you can see are silos and small groves of trees that protect the…