Catherine Elizabeth Ogilvie

Grief strips life down to irreducible essentials. On September 24, 2025, our Mom, Cathy Ogilvie, died. After years of Heather, pushing and demanding for answers, it was the wonderfully caring neurologist and team at the University of Alberta hospital who finally made it all make sense. Mom had ALS. A viscous, cruel disease that makes every movement, every breath harder and harder until the body just can’t hold up. We only had two weeks to know, to try to understand, to leave that all the facts and to-do lists for another time – so that we could just BE with her. Time becomes so precious.
To sit with her. Listen to her tell old stories while we looked at pictures together. Watching her face and listening to her, softly singing along while she and Heather watched South Pacific in the hospital room. The way she watched us. Tracking our movements around her room, even when she couldn’t move her body anymore. The way her eyes lit up, and her smile got so big when we’d bring Luna to visit in the hospital. She was always Mothering. Always loving.

We never appreciate, or recognize when something happens for the last time. Those small moments that change us, and make us who we are. Just yesterday someone held my cheek and it crushed me to realize my Mom would never hold my face and look so closely into my eyes again. She would never rub Vicks under my nose and on my chest before bedtime. She would never drive us to the pool at 6AM, 6 days a week, without complaint, always with a soft smile and snack ready for us. Always Mothering. Always loving. Always there.

She’ll never linger over another martini with her Diva ladies. Their birthday lunches that always made her so chatty and happy.That call to one of us after.. You always knew she’d had fun. She’ll never get to sit with her nursing buddies and laugh at their stories and adventures from St. Mary’s days. She’ll never volunteer at St. Christophers; a group of loving people who became like a family for her. She’ll never get to have lunch with her cousins, or check in with her nieces and sister. How she loved to keep tabs on her family; always wanted to be close. To be in our lives. Always caring. Always loving. Always there.

We’ll never do another family trip. Yep. Family trip. Mom and Dad have been divorced for 31 years, and 31 years they both continued to prioritize their kids, and our family. Whether we were all piled into Heather’s one bedroom apartment in Australia, going on cruises, making the most of the OH and FIVE birthdays with family reunions, trips to Hawaii or Mexico, or Costa Rica. Mom and Dad always made it happen – for all of us – to be together. No matter what the occasion, or crisis, Mom and Dad always show up. Always parenting. Always loving. Always there.

So much loss, and never agains. So many moments, so many memories to hold and cherish. Mom, you’ll always be here. Mothering, loving, caring, holding us. Always, ALWAYS there.

And we will always, ALWAYS love you. We will keep loving and living with you in our hearts. We will remember that every moment is precious and to be cherished like its the last.

Fierce as death is LOVE.