The story is in the broken hearts

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 had no stick with them, so they put out their driver instead.

The sheer volume of #jerseysforhumboldt posts that crowded Instagram and Facebook and Twitter, with borrowed, ripped, smelly and cross-faction teams being represented in workplaces and living rooms everywhere.

The grandmother that went to Canadian Tire to buy a stick, and had to try them all out first to figure out which one was a lefty, in case her grandsons wanted to use it.

These little moments – the authenticity of grief – make me so amazingly proud to be a Canadian Hockey Mom. They have been so touching, so raw, that it’s been difficult to take my eyes away from it all.

Since my last post, we lost Dayna Brons, the athletic therapist for the team. The only girl on the bus, she inevitably put up with her fair share of abuse. I saw a post about putting the tape out for Dayna, the unsung hero of the team who patched and mended the boys bodies throughout the season. As a mom of one hockey player that has hung up his skates due to concussions, and another who suffered a broken collarbone and a broken foot in the same season, the value of having someone trained to heal through the intimate stench is irreplaceable. Rest easy Dayna.

The Broncos still have a long way to go. 10 players are still in hospital – three remain in critical condition. Funerals and celebrations of life will be held all week for the fallen. Though jersey day is over, and the news headlines have started to wane, I urge you to pay attention. Keep watching for the miracles and acts of love that are happening every day around us. Continue to lift Humboldt and all that were personally affected up in prayer. Support the broken. Don’t let this moment pass unforgotten and wiped under the rug. It’s OK to cry. Heck I’ve been taking a moment every few hours! The humility of a broken heart is a precious thing.

Paul Brandt rearranged his song Small Town and Big Dreams for the team. A high school student at Shawnigan Lake School wrote an amazing tribute called Humboldt Green. Smitty Kingston processed his grief by writing a song, and promising to leave his sticks by the door for the boys, should they want to play some shinny. The musical tributes get me every time, simply because they get stuck on repeat in my mind over and over again.

Tom Cochrane did an unplugged rewritten version of Big League for TSN that reminds us – you never can tell when your time will come. So do unto others as you’d do to yourself.

It’s true. We don’t know. So be kind. Always.