Anna’s journey through grief

Living with Parkinson’s has taught me that life can change quietly and sometimes all at once. 

After my diagnosis, I began learning how to adapt to a body that no longer behaved the way it once did. Parkinson’s brought uncertainty and a form of ongoing grief for the version of myself I had known. I learned that grief isn’t always loud; often, it shows up in small moments that require patience, adjustment, and compassion toward myself. 

Last summer, my understanding of grief changed completely with the sudden loss of my husband. 

Navigating Parkinson’s while grieving someone I loved deeply has been one of the hardest experiences of my life. There is no roadmap for carrying both at once. Some days feel heavy and quiet; other days reveal a resilience I didn’t know I possessed. 

Movement has become one of my anchors. Fitness has always been part of my life, but now it plays a deeper role. It helps me process emotions that don’t always have words. It gives me structure, purpose, and moments of clarity when everything else feels uncertain. 

In October 2025, I competed in HYROX Toronto under circumstances that made the challenge even greater. I had lost 30 pounds and hadn’t been able to train consistently due to my husband’s cancer diagnosis and his sudden passing. Completing the event was not about the leaderboard, it was about proving to myself that even in the midst of grief, loss, and physical challenge, it was possible to keep moving forward. Building on that experience, I’m now training for my second HYROX competition in Ottawa this May 2026. These goals aren’t about performance alone; they represent commitment, consistency, and choosing forward motion, even during the hardest times of life. 

Training reminds me that my body is still capable, still strong, and still responsive when cared for with intention. Parkinson’s may influence how I train, but it doesn’t define what I can strive for. Each workout becomes an act of resilience, a way of honouring both my strength and my grief. 

Living with Parkinson’s and loss has reshaped how I define strength. Strength, for me, often looks like showing up and continuing on, even when things aren’t fine. It’s holding myself together enough to move forward, carrying grief quietly, doing what needs to be done, and finding ways to move forward each day.  Some days that means pretending I’m fine so I can keep going, and other days it means allowing the weight of it all to exist. Either way, it’s choosing to continue, even when it’s hard. 

By sharing my story, my hope is to connect with others who may be navigating Parkinson’s, grief, or unexpected change. While this journey has altered my life, it has not taken away my sense of meaning, my drive, or my belief in resilience. I’m also currently waiting to hear if I’m a candidate for Deep Brain Stimulation (DBS). The thought of surgery is scary, and I won’t pretend it’s easy to face, especially without my husband, my rock. But at the same time, it represents hope and a chance to take action in my journey with Parkinson’s, my husband would have wanted me to do so. I’m learning to acknowledge my fear while continuing to navigate grief and keep a positive mindset. 

I continue to move forward , one workout, and one day at a time , carrying grief and strength side by side. Some days the steps are small, some days they feel heavy, but each one is an act of intention. This is how I honour where I’ve been, who I’ve lost, and the life I’m still choosing to live. 

Watch Anna talk about her journey.

This piece was written with courage by Anna Diorio.

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