Catherine Oceano

Canada

Writer at Medium

Mother, grandmother, writer, nature lover

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Articles

My Carefully Curated Family

1 week ago | medium.com | Catherine Oceano

Not chosen, evolved to be friends despite our relationshipA friend who is quite jealous of my relationship with my kids (some of them at least), told me that it was the way I had “curated” my family that had resulted in what she saw as my perfect life. (Um, it’s not perfect by the way, just saying). She has a tenuous connection to her three. It gave me pause for thought. I had imagined I knew what the word curate meant.
The Children Play

3 weeks ago | medium.com | Catherine Oceano

Poetry Sunlight streams through the tent walls Plays out in patterns like a geometry class chalkboard Lines that shift and drift filtered through tree branches overhead The children wake up one after another From their family campsites, they emerge Wandering barefoot with yawning faces Collecting children as they go Like the Pied Piper, the line gets longer Trails like the string of a kite The oldest is fourteen, and the youngest is one There is everything in between Even a set of twins,...
Death Brings New Reminders

3 weeks ago | medium.com | Catherine Oceano

Of how my son came into my lifeThe coroner (let’s call him Walter) called me yesterday to tell me he had completed his report about my son’s death. My son died by suicide last March. Back then, I was told that the coroner would investigate any involvement my son had with health services in the recent past, as well as look for any other recent life events or previous suicidal behaviour.
When the Only Way Out Is Through

4 weeks ago | medium.com | Catherine Oceano

Medium’s best creative nonfiction — memoirs and personal essays. Eclectic, nuanced, entertaining. Follow us, or join our writers’ collective. THE NARRATIVE ARCSometimes life takes us to hard placesSometimes we are stuck in a place we don’t want to be. I’ve been there before. I am there now. I’ve worked with people who were there—those who found themselves unable to see their way out. The solutions offered were not always realistic. They were not viable.
I Lost My Son

1 month ago | humanparts.medium.com | Catherine Oceano

His life and death stream through my mind like sad movie reelsI lost my son sometime in early March. The date will never be known. He died alone, and the body was not found for many days. The death of your child by suicide can’t help but leave behind a trail of blame, of self-recrimination and deep guilt. As I work through all these feelings, I recognize that it makes more sense in my brain, in my heart, and in my soul to believe that I am responsible in some way.
My Son’s Death: I Wanted to Forget

1 month ago | medium.com | Catherine Oceano

A plane ride to almost anywhere appeared a solutionHe died by suicide. I couldn’t help but ask how. I was informed he had hung himself. It didn’t help to know. I’ve tried to stop thinking about the days and moments before he took his life, but that’s becoming more difficult. My son died sometime in early March—my brother on April 25th. There is a blurred time in between when we dealt with the responsibilities of death for my boy and weeks at the hospital with my sibling.
Canada Voted

1 month ago | medium.com | Catherine Oceano

But we still need to make our voices heardMy Canada held an election last week. We voted in a new Prime Minister. Our Liberal party stayed in power partly because its leader demonstrated the ability to talk firmly to and about Donald Trump. He’s not as left as I would have liked, but we don’t have much of that here, even from our New Democratic Party.
How Old Is Old Enough?

1 month ago | medium.com | Catherine Oceano

“The longer I live, the more beautiful life becomes.” (Frank Lloyd Wright) Non-fiction pieces, personal essays and occasional poems that explore how we feel about how we age and offer tips for getting the most out of life. Follow publicationAnd what makes a life you want to hold on to? When I was young, I thought 60 was old. If you lived that long, you had had enough of life. Or so it seemed to the 20-year-old me. My mother died when she was 67 and I was 30.
What Happens When You Die?

1 month ago | medium.com | Catherine Oceano

THE WIND PHONEMy brother wanted to knowI watched my brother take his last breath on Friday past. His eyes held mine. There was no fear, just wonder. The look in them reminded me of a photo of him when he was a child. The same gaze. Bright blue eyes that held the promise of an adventure, the sense of excitement that a new day brings. And yet he knew he was about to die. I never knew my brother as a child. He was ten years older.
The Power of Our Words

Feb 23, 2025 | medium.com | Catherine Oceano

Someone from afar read my story, and it made a differenceCatherine Oceano·FollowPublished inThe Narrative Arc·4 min read·--We are not alone, even when we think we are. Photo credit: Catherine Oceano, authorI’ve mostly lost the urge to write. I began here on Medium a few years ago with stories to tell. It was cathartic to put words to some of my life experiences, many of them hard. Some days, I was driven; at other times, it was more like work.