Finding Strength After Loss: Moving Forward with Parkinson’s

Finding Strength After Loss: Moving Forward with Parkinson’s

Losing a loved one is like losing a piece of yourself. The grief can feel overwhelming, and when you add Parkinson’s into the mix, it can feel impossible to find the energy, the will, or even the reason to keep going. I see it all the time—people who were once strong, motivated, and full of life now struggling to get out of bed, let alone exercise. If this is you, I want you to know: you are not alone.

I know this struggle intimately.

Losing My Dad in the First Month of COVID Lockdown

In March 2020, as the world was shutting down, my world was falling apart in a way I could never have imagined. My dad had just retired. He and my mom were finally about to enjoy the life they had worked so hard for. They flew to Spain for a three-week vacation—what should have been the beginning of a beautiful new chapter together.

But during their first week there, my dad started experiencing back pain and numbness in his leg. A walk-in doctor dismissed it as sciatica, but it got worse. When they told me about it, I urged them to go to the emergency room. That decision changed everything.

An MRI revealed tumors in his spine. He was rushed into surgery immediately, but the situation was chaos. COVID had just hit Spain, and hospitals were in a state of panic. The neurosurgeon operating on my dad had COVID—something we didn’t even know at the time. When my dad came out of surgery, he was paralyzed from the chest down.

And then, the world shut down.

The hospital staff disappeared, overwhelmed by the crisis. My mom—who didn’t speak Spanish—was left to care for my dad on her own. She was given canned tomatoes to eat and had to fend for both of them in a foreign country with no help. The nightmare wasn’t just that my dad was paralyzed—it was that they were alone, terrified, and struggling to survive while my siblings and I were thousands of miles away trying to get them home.

As a business owner, I was also facing daily changes and chaos—pivoting our operations just to survive the ever-changing landscape. But my priority was getting my parents home before the borders closed. After fighting with the insurance company, we finally got them back to Canada privately as the insurance company wasn't helping us.

We were told at first that the tumors were benign, but within weeks, the truth came crashing down: it was cancer, and he only had weeks to live.

I moved in with my parents to help. Those weeks were the hardest of my life—watching the strongest, healthiest 67-year-old man I knew deteriorate so quickly. He was the rock of our family, and suddenly, he was gone. To this day, I am still grieving. I am still trying to process how life changed so drastically in such a short time.

But through all of it, I know this: my dad would want me to keep going.

Even on my hardest days, when my own health struggles feel like too much, I remind myself that I still have so much to give. I remind myself that he would want me to live life to the fullest—to do all the things he never got the chance to do.

When Motivation is Gone, Habit Must Take Over

I share this story because I know what it feels like to be knocked down so hard you don’t think you can get back up. And when you add Parkinson’s into the mix, you’re fighting an even bigger battle. The disease itself robs you of motivation. It’s not just a lack of willpower—your brain is literally working against you.

That’s why motivation cannot be the thing you rely on—habit has to take over.

👉 Don’t wait until you feel like exercising—start, and the feeling may come later.👉 Don’t think about an entire workout—commit to five minutes.👉 Don’t isolate—connect with others who understand your journey.

Grief Can Pull You Into the Past—Movement Brings You Back to the Present

Exercise might be the last thing on your mind, but it is one of the most powerful tools to help you move forward, physically and emotionally. Movement isn’t just about fitness; it’s about keeping your independence, lifting your mood, and feeling in control of your body again. Even small amounts of movement can improve brain function, ease symptoms, and help manage depression and anxiety.

I’ve seen clients drowning in grief rediscover joy just by showing up to class. They may have started out quiet, withdrawn—but after a few sessions, something shifts. They smile. They laugh. They remember they are still here, still capable, still connected.

You Don’t Have to Do This Alone

If there’s one thing I want you to hear today, it’s this: community matters. Grief can feel isolating, and Parkinson’s can make you want to retreat even further. But when you surround yourself with people who understand—even if they aren’t in the exact same situation—you start to heal in ways you never expected.

In our gym, I see it all the time—people who show up thinking they are only coming for exercise, but they leave with friendships, support, and a sense of purpose. It’s not just about boxing or balance training or strength. It’s about the conversations before and after class. It’s about knowing someone is looking forward to seeing you. It’s about realizing you still matter.

Honor Your Loved One by Living

I know there may be days when you feel like, what’s the point? But think of your loved one—would they want you to give up? Or would they want you to keep going, to take care of yourself, to find moments of joy even through the pain?

Maybe you dedicate your workouts to them. Maybe you find a way to carry them with you as you move forward. Moving doesn’t mean forgetting—it means honoring them by continuing to live.

Start with One Small Step

If today feels too hard, just take one small step:✅ Go for a short walk, even just down the driveway.✅ Put on a song that lifts your spirits and move to it.✅ Call or text someone who lifts you up.✅ Show up to a class, even if you don’t feel like talking.

The hardest part is starting—but once you do, you’ll remember: you are stronger than you think.

And if you need a place to start, we’re here. You don’t have to do this alone. ❤️

Yours in health,

Christine