From the Shores of the Ottawa River

Sister  Rose – Resilient Spirit (1954–) This is a picture of her. It includes our late brother Roger and her late son James.

Rose Marina was born in 1954. She is more than my sister. She is my confidante and my companion. We share stories, joys, and the hardships that shaped us.

Rose is a deeply sensitive soul who still carries the weight of her experience at Holy Angels Indian Residential School. That trauma left scars, but also sharpened her resistance to being controlled. “Don’t tell me what to do—I’m not in the mission anymore,” she often says with a defiant edge. It’s not just a phrase—it’s her shield, her affirmation of agency. Through it all, she held onto our Denesuline language. That, in itself, is a quiet act of resistance. Our language is ceremony, memory, and identity—and she kept it alive.

When life overwhelms her, Rose retreats. She disconnects, doesn’t answer calls, and creates the solitude she needs to process. It never lasts too long, but it’s her way of healing. She’s especially sensitive to criticism, particularly from our younger nieces. We’ve shared many conversations mourning the loss of respect from the younger generation. When words are thrown carelessly, they cut deep, and she carries that pain in her heart.

Her life has been marked by immense grief—losing two sons, surviving breast cancer, and facing liver disease. Yet through it all, Rose remains a quiet force of love. She has never let pain harden her. She moves through the world with kindness and a readiness to help others. Her resilience is quiet but mighty.

Her humor still shines. During her cancer treatment, she wore a blonde wig. One of our brothers, a little drunk at the time, didn’t recognize her. “You look familiar,” he said, “I know who you are, but what’s your name?” Rose replied, “It’s me, your sister!” We all burst into laughter—his seriousness made it even funnier.

Rose and I once attended the University of Alberta together, both in the Faculty of Education. She later transferred to Saskatchewan to finish her final year. Her commitment to education and community has always been obvious.

She is a survivor in every sense—of colonial trauma, of illness, of deep personal loss. And yet, she laughs, she remembers, and she gives. Rose is a living embodiment of the Dene spirit: resilient, enduring, generous, and full of love.

Her presence is a gift. A sacred reminder of how we carry each other through the storm. A reminder of how we heal.