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At 90, Glenice English isn’t slowing down. She’s still showing up, still listening, still offering cups of tea and quiet moments of comfort to those who need it most. Her journey as a hospice volunteer didn’t start with a desire to help—it started with grief. And from that grief came a deep understanding of what it means to truly be there for someone.
"Four days in April of 1995 taught me the power of compassion and the comfort held in a cup of tea. They were the last days of my son’s life. Each time I left his room, there was someone there to listen, to hold me while I cried, and to ask, 'cuppa tea, love?' The power of this compassion sustained me through the weeks and months that followed. It was then that vague thoughts became a reality. It was then I knew that if there was a hospice in Burnaby and if they would have me, that was where I wanted to be."
Loss has a way of shaping us, redirecting our lives in ways we never expected. For Glenice, grief didn’t just leave a void—it created a purpose. The kindness she received in those painful moments became the foundation of her work as a hospice volunteer.
"My mother died in the 1970s. At the time, we were uninformed and unsupported. Visiting hours were over when she died, and so she died alone. Twenty years later, I found myself in an English hospital room, and it was my son who was dying. This time, I was informed and supported. Every time I left his room, there was someone there to listen, to hold me, or to offer ‘cuppa tea, love.’ The difference between the two experiences led me to volunteer."
That stark contrast shaped Glenice’s journey, transforming her own heartache into a source of purpose. She knew that no one should have to go through what she did—alone, unsupported, unheard. This realization became the catalyst behind her decision to volunteer.
Through her time with the Burnaby Hospice Society, Glenice has learned that the most profound impact often comes from the smallest gestures. "Being a volunteer has enriched my life in ways I never anticipated. I've increased my understanding of death, the process of dying, and of grief. I've learned to know myself better—where my boundaries are. Volunteering has made me more aware of the importance of 'little' things—a cup of tea in a pretty cup, a smile, a simple ‘hi.’ It’s these moments, these small acts, that truly matter."
Glenice isn’t trying to change the world; she’s simply trying to be present. And sometimes, that’s all it takes. Volunteering isn’t just something she does; it’s something she feels deeply connected to. "The people, their stories, their openness to sharing part of themselves when they are most vulnerable—that’s what stays with me. The 'heart' moments are when the connection with another person runs deep. Every time I listen, hold someone while they cry, or serve a cup of tea, I’m honouring those who supported me so long ago." To her, it’s never about fixing anything; it’s about showing up, even when there are no words that can make things better.
Glenice’s time as a hospice volunteer has been filled with deeply personal, heartwarming moments, but one in particular stands out. "As my active shifts at St. Mike’s came to an end, I reflected on my 'Queenie' visits and all the cups of tea served in pretty cups. It felt perfectly and poetically ordained that my last connection with a patient and their family was to serve a cup of tea. Last Thursday, a 'cuppa tea' in a beautiful cup and a cuddle from 'Gary' (the visiting dog) brought my regular St. Mike’s shifts to a heartfelt and poetic full circle."
What began as a moment of comfort offered to Glenice during her own time of grief had come full circle, becoming the very thing she would go on to offer others.
Even after that last cup of tea, Glenice’s story continued to unfold in unexpected ways. "Tea service was almost finished on my last day when a new patient was admitted. On impulse, I went into the room and asked a family member (N), who was filling out forms, if she would like a cup of tea or coffee. At first, she declined but then changed her mind. So, I served her tea in a pretty cup and saucer. On another impulse, I took a picture of the cup and made a card, which Julie, our palliative program volunteer coordinator, gave to N. I didn’t think much of it at the time."
Months later, at a hospice memorial, Glenice met N’s sister and learned just how much that simple act had meant. The connection didn’t end there—it resurfaced again and again, reminding her of the profound impact of small gestures. "At the Hospice volunteer picnic in July 2024, N was there and shared her ‘teacup story.’ At the end of the event, we had a long heart-to-heart conversation. It meant so much to me and surely completed the circle that began so long ago. But… it didn’t stop there. At the Volunteer Appreciation Night in April 2024, Julie presented me with a picture of ‘The Cup.’ Sometimes, I wonder what brought that person into that room at that particular moment. Someone who received the tea with the same connection and appreciation I experienced in London. In her words, 'it made a difference' and became a part of her healing journey."
It seems the circle is complete. Or is there another chapter yet to unfold?
If you’re thinking about becoming a hospice volunteer, Glenice has simple, honest advice: "There are many reasons people become hospice volunteers, but whatever your reason and however much time you have to give, you will receive far more in return. Being a hospice volunteer is fulfilling, rewarding, and a privilege." The work isn’t easy, but it’s real and human, and it matters in ways you can’t always measure.
Glenice stresses that volunteering is about those small, meaningful moments that stay with you. "Many wonderful comments stick with me," she reflects. "Do dogs have their own heaven, or do they go to ours? Thanks for listening. How do I know what day it is if my husband is not there to turn the calendar?" Some moments she has experienced are especially unforgettable, like the smile on a mother’s face when she saw the dog, or a bride and the wedding party showing her grandma her dress and leaving the bouquet. Being present when a soul transitions – that, for Glenice, is the ultimate privilege of being a volunteer.
What Glenice teaches us is that her story isn’t about grand gestures or dramatic transformations. It’s about the quiet power of simply showing up for others, one moment at a time. She’s living proof that kindness doesn’t have an expiration date. She doesn't volunteer for recognition; she does it because someone once did it for her.
We are lucky to have Glenice as part of the Burnaby Hospice Society and even luckier to learn from her.
By Marketing and Communications, Burnaby Hospice Society
