Little White Crosses: Why Roadside Memorials Matter

Every summer I look forward to road tripping to Alberta with my boys to visit family and friends, and every drive I spot them: those little roadside memorials.

White crosses. Silk flowers. A photo tucked under glass. Sometimes a name. Sometimes just a worn teddy bear or a fading ribbon fluttering in the wind. Someone’s memory distilled in a glance as we drive by.

And every single time, I wonder:
Who were they?
What happened?
Who still stops by to keep that space tended and loved and their Legacy alive?

There’s one outside of Clearwater, BC that I’ll never forget. Two large crosses with a little cross attached in the middle. A quick google search gives me the details, but this public memorial tells me something more: that these 3 lives were not forgotten, and their story will continue to impact strangers who happen to pull over by the river for a rest and a stretch.

This is the kind of silent human connection that sticks with you, even when you didn’t know the person.

Sometimes these little shrines make me a bit sad, but more so they make me reflective.  And curious.

They remind me how deeply we’re all connected, and how even the smallest gestures can echo for years.

Roadside memorials may be humble, but they are powerful acts of remembrance. They reflect the human need to mark a life, to say: this person mattered, they were loved.

A grassroots ritual: small, unsanctioned, a deeply moving acknowledgement of a life taken too soon.

As someone who works in the death caring field, I’ve come to see how vital it is that families have something to hold onto. Whether it’s a formal funeral, a simple graveside service, or a handwritten letter tucked in the cremation casket, these gestures anchor the grief, and they help the living go on.

When everything feels uncertain, intentional planning can give your family something steady to hold onto. That’s the heart of The Empowered Estate.

It’s not fancy or complicated, just a thoughtful, practical way to make sure the people you love have what they need: clear information and important details in one place. A sense of connection, even when you can’t be there.

We will leave an impact that ripples out in ways we can never see. That’s Legacy.

Those homemade shrines remind me:

I’m alive now.  Enjoy this trip, the scenery, the time with my kids.

To be patient, authentic and compassionate with strangers.

And to be grateful when I reach my destination.

Most of all I am reminded to keep showing up for this work — because it matters.