Grief, Art, and the Power of Connection: Sol Mamakwa’s Journey Through Loss
In the quiet corners of Sol Mamakwa’s office at the Ontario legislature, a painting hangs—a silent yet profound reminder of the woman who shaped his life. Created by his late wife, Pearl, the artwork depicts a brown hand descending from the sky, gently touching one of five green and orange tents perched on a hill. Each tent, with its small round window, seems to whisper a story. But here’s where it gets intriguing: Mamakwa, the NDP MPP for Kiiwetinoong, admits he’ll never fully understand its meaning. “Is it her hand? Or the Creator’s?” he ponders, standing near the table where he performs his smudging ritual—a practice he likens to prayer. The tents, he believes, represent him and his children. And this is the part most people miss: Pearl handed him the painting before she passed, leaving him with a tangible piece of her spirit.
Mamakwa’s grief is raw, yet he’s chosen to share it publicly, not just as a form of healing, but as a message: “It’s okay not to be okay.” At 54, he’s navigating life alone after four decades with Pearl, whom he met at 15. Together, they raised four children and welcomed seven grandchildren. But here’s the controversial part: While he’s experienced loss before—his father, his brother—this, he says, is the hardest. Pearl’s death in June was sudden, a whirlwind of hospital visits, an undiagnosed infection, and a rapid decline. Does our healthcare system fail Indigenous communities in moments like these? It’s a question Mamakwa doesn’t explicitly ask, but one that lingers in the air.
Pearl, a private woman proud of her First Nations heritage, was his rock. She supported his political career, raising their children while he fought for Indigenous rights. And this is the part that sparks debate: As the only MPP from a First Nation, Mamakwa has been a fierce critic of the Ford government’s policies, particularly Bill 5, which he argues undermines Indigenous land rights. “Without the land, who are we?” he asks, a question that resonates deeply with many but divides others. Is progress possible without sacrificing Indigenous sovereignty?
Despite their political differences, Mamakwa found solace in unexpected places. Colleagues from across the aisle—Liberals, Conservatives, even Premier Doug Ford—reached out after Pearl’s death. But here’s the surprising twist: Ford, often at odds with Mamakwa, reminded him, “We’re a family, even if we’re a messed-up one.” It’s a sentiment that challenges the narrative of political divisiveness, yet raises the question: Can unity truly transcend ideological battles?
As Mamakwa returns to Queen’s Park full-time, he’s grappling with purpose. “I don’t know what the Creator’s plan is for me,” he admits, “but I trust it.” His story isn’t just about loss; it’s about resilience, connection, and the art of moving forward. What’s your take? Does Mamakwa’s journey inspire hope, or does it highlight the deeper systemic issues facing Indigenous communities? Share your thoughts below—let’s keep the conversation going.
