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In August 2020 I had the honour to sit and listen to the stories of loss, grief, and healing of my elders. I meditated under a tree while Tristen Durocher played his fiddle. I watched as people cried at the photographs of their loved ones lost to suicide...
I listened to the Chiefs talk about the dozens of people who died by suicide just in the past few months on reserves. Kukoms cried for their children and grandchildren they didn’t get to see grow up.
It was an honour to be there. To listen to the stories and honour the lives lost too soon. Our government was invited to listen, to learn, to talk...
They refused and tried to kick grieving families off the very ground our ancestors walked long before the Saskatchewan flag flew here. So sure, let’s talk. Let’s talk about cultural genocide and how that has created generational trauma and addiction...
Let’s talk about how our Indigenous children living on reserves are more likely to die by suicide than Caucasian city dwelling children. Let’s talk about addictions that have taken too many of our aunties and uncles too soon...
Let’s talk about how our government ignores the cries of those most at risk, those suffering deep rooted generational traumas, those fighting for more mental health supports. Or maybe let’s not talk. Maybe we finally decide to sit down, hold space, and truly listen.
