Jean Christie was born on November 12th, 1964. Jean was someone special to a lot of people, but no one more than myself (Nigel), her son.

My mom always demonstrated kindness, compassion and love to all those around her, more so than to herself. Jean always had a smile on her face and would have those around her smile and laugh — whether it was making dirty jokes, poking fun at myself, or laughing at herself.

She always tried her best to ensure those around her were filled with all the love they required and more.

Jean Christie was born in Nova Scotia, but did not truly know her birth family until into the later part of her life. My mother had anything but a “normal” life growing up, experiencing trauma from a very early age.

My mother never spoke about these incidents to anyone and only on occasions would a grief burst occur and I would hear her speak about the sexual and physical abuse.

She was in pain, but behind that smile no one knew just how much. Not even myself. Shame, grief and guilt are all feelings that she held tight to her chest every day — feelings that not even I could heal or fully understand.

She was strong for me and for others.

My mom, with her shame, guilt and grief, now had disappointment and failure as a mother on her shoulders.

A mom who thought of herself as a failure, in my eyes was the hardest working best mom ever.

She may have believed she was falling short, but what I remember is a woman who kept showing up. A woman who worked. A woman who loved. A woman who tried.

She did not give me everything the world could offer. She gave me herself.

And that was everything.