The Good Choice Blog: A Grandfather’s Lesson in Strength

By Tiawna LaMontagne 

Growing up, I was proudly labelled a “Grandpa’s girl.” He wasn’t just my Grandpa Ernie — he was the father figure in my life, and as a young child, he was truly my best friend.

Every summer, I’d go to work with him. He was a plumber, and some of my happiest memories are of driving around in his work truck, listening to old country music with our German Shepherd, Buddy. We’d play pranks, stop for ice cream, and laugh until our stomachs hurt. He was my safe place. My favourite person.

When I was 12, my grandpa was diagnosed with bowel cancer that had already metastasized to his liver. It was a shock to our entire family. After exhausting every option at home, the doctors told us he only had months to live. That simply wasn’t enough time.

Within days, my mom, grandma, aunt, grandpa, and I were at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, searching for hope. Tests that took weeks back home took minutes there. After a whirlwind of appointments, he was scheduled for surgery within days, and we stayed there the entire summer while he recovered.

During his recovery we mostly kept him company every day, but when he was resting, I wandered the halls of the Mayo Clinic, visited the computer lab to play old DOS games. I distinctly remember living off Lean Cuisine meals and baby carrots —I still can’t stomach a Lean Cuisine today. But I’d eat a thousand more if it meant one more day with him.

When we returned home, I started Grade 8 a day late. My teacher made a joke in front of the class about me “lollygagging in Minnesota,” and I remember thinking, You have no idea what my family just lived through. But I said nothing.

Be kind to others — you never know what battles they’re carrying.

Looking back, I didn’t fully grasp the gravity of the situation at that age, but I did understand this: it made my grandpa human. I had always viewed him as invincible. He was the strongest person in the world to me. Seeing him vulnerable taught me that even the strongest people need help sometimes — and it’s okay to ask for it and accept it.

Strength, I learned, isn’t always loud or physical. My grandpa could carry heavy tools, fix anything, and work long days with only a 15-minute nap to recharge. However, the strength that stayed with me was his willingness to let others support him when he could no longer do everything on his own. Strength can be quiet, soft, and steady. It can be admitting you’re scared, letting someone hold your hand, or choosing to keep going on days when everything feels too heavy. It’s not about being unbreakable — it’s about allowing yourself to be held while you heal.

Eventually, the cancer returned, and my grandpa passed away in January 2007. But the Mayo Clinic gave us seven extra years instead of months— seven years of memories, family, and moments I’ll cherish forever.

There are still times today when I ache to share parts of my life with him: buying my first home on my own, building my business from the ground up, the adventures I’ve had, and meeting Joel and Rob. I really wish he could have met the infamous bulldog, Boogie — he would have adored her.

My grandpa taught me what strength truly looks like: not perfection or power, but vulnerability, courage, and the choice to keep moving forward even when life cracks you open. As we move through November, I hope his story reminds you to slow down, be kind, check in on others, and remember that none of us ever has to carry hard things alone.

 

If You or Someone You Know Needs Support

You are not alone — help is available:

Saskatchewan Cancer Screening Program: http://www.saskcancer.ca

Men’s Mental Health Support: http://www.movember.com | www.headsupguys.org

988 Suicide Crisis Helpline: Call or text 988 anytime

211 Saskatchewan: Call 2-1-1 or visit www.sk.211.ca for mental health and community supports