Read time : 2 min
By Martin Dumont
Have you ever thought back to those days that radically changed the course of your life?
For me, one of those days was in 2023, when I was a journalist.
I had been given a seemingly innocuous mandate: to cover the VIP event organized by Palliacco for A Trek Under the Stars. Part of me saw this assignment like so many others: a few questions asked, a few photos, and then a quick return to my computer to write the article before the deadline. In short, business as usual. Little did I know that day that my life would take a completely different turn.
Une journée sous le signe de la révélation
It was a beautiful winter’s day, where scattered snowflakes delicately danced on the icy trails of Mont-Tremblant’s Domaine Saint-Bernard. Like many people, I had heard of Palliacco, but not really grasping its essence, or the depth of its mission.
For me, as for the vast majority, the mention of subjects such as the end of life, cancer or bereavement triggers an inner discomfort. A subtle but insistent voice suggested to me that the mere mention of these subjects could bring on misfortune.
Yet, as I listened to Palliacco’s volunteers and employees talk about their mission with palpable passion and commitment, a strange feeling came over me. It was as if someone was about to share a secret that I was not worthy to hear. My first reaction was to withdraw and turn my back on this opening of the heart.
Because positive talk about death, cancer and grief is deeply destabilizing! Learning that an increased awareness of the fragility of life allows us to better appreciate it and to better understand death, upsets our assumptions but is reassuring at the same time. It is a feeling that cannot be ignored, and it pursued me throughout my walk in the forest.
To dispel this growing malaise, I anchored myself into my role as a journalist, to simply report the news with cold objectivity. But here’s the thing, despite the fact that it’s winter, I don’t see any coldness in the words of these people.
On a trail in the middle of nature, I walk with the volunteers, employees and former beneficiaries of Palliacco, gathered for this special day. I listen closely, looking for a dramatic story that would make the front page of the next edition of the newspaper. But people seem to care more about the little birds and deer than the reporter. All I get are contemplative looks, spontaneous laughter and small gestures of compassion deployed with gentleness and discretion. Goodbye journalistic coldness! Engrossed in thought, I am jealous of the ability of these people to live fully in the present moment.
The Discovery of the Palliacco Effect
Slowly, my desire to play journalist dissipates. An unconscious wish takes over: that of one day being part of this community. This sudden awareness overwhelms me. Without warning, the echo of the words spoken earlier by one of the organization’s spokespersons hit me hard:
“The transition from life to death is our last life experience. It can be traumatic, but it can also be done gently, if you feel that someone is holding your hand to lovingly say goodbye. This is Palliacco’s mission, and I believe that everyone should have the right to this support.”
As I considered this sincere sharing, a question arose directly from my subconscious: What if our greatest fear was not death itself, but rather the fear of leaving this world alone and ignored?
Nearly two years later, now rooted in this community as a dedicated employee, the connection to that moment has taken concrete form. I finally understood that what I had felt that day was the Palliacco Effect.
How can we describe this intangible force that drives each of us to become a better person?
It can undoubtedly relate to the comforting feeling you get when, going through a dark period or reflecting, you realize that you are not alone in overcoming your difficulties.
Some might also describe it as the impulse of the heart that pushes every human being to open up to others and take concrete actions to improve the daily lives of people in vulnerable situations.
Or could it be simply an opportunity to recognize, through a concrete gesture, the goodness in the heart of the other?
Is it something you have inside you or a quality acquired over time?
The only certainty I have today is that the Palliacco Effect does not represent the end of everything, but the beginning of everything… and I intend to continue exploring all of its possibilities!
How would you describe the Palliacco Effect?