Grief is an expression of love. If we don’t love, we don’t grieve. My grandmother Patricia Cunningham passed away last spring in Windsor, Ontario. She was 95. She was a mother, a grandmother, and a wife to her first husband, Ken Wood, and her second husband, Colonel Roger Cunningham.

My grandmother was an artist. She loved to find good trouble throughout her life, right up to the retirement home stage. She loved animals, music and, for some unknown reason, devilled eggs. One of my favourite memories with her is visiting Ontario Place. A lifelong resident of Windsor, she loved all genres of music and was a talented artist whose paintings grace homes worldwide, including my own Queen’s Park office.

She will be missed by her children, Allan, Laurie, Laine and Brent, and her stepdaughters, Sheila, Alexis and Martha, their spouses, and some pretty awesome grandchildren, plus family and friends.

She reminded me of Mary Tyler Moore. She was strong, creative, intelligent, independent.

Former MPP and CBC reporter Percy Hatfield told me that he used to hang out in Pat’s office waiting for the “scoop” when she was a hospital administrator. She was thrilled when he delivered a 90th birthday scroll.

I would be remiss if I didn’t ask the government to honour their promise of Alzheimer’s funding. It’s never the wrong time to do the right thing. Alzheimer patients require leadership. It is a cruel disease.

I feel fortunate to have called her my Nanny Pat. She was a good person who loved us and was loved.