By Christopher Cutler, Founder of The Heather Cutler Foundation

On May 31st, we took part in our third Kicking PancreAS walk at Quidi Vidi Lake. It’s a fundraiser. It’s a 5K. But if you’ve ever been to one, you know—it’s so much more than that.

Each year has felt drastically different for me.

In 2022, my mom had just been diagnosed. She couldn’t be there in person—she was at the Health Sciences Centre in St. John’s—but we FaceTimed her in from her hospital bed. She watched the speeches, saw people walking in her name, and cried. That was the first time I saw just how much community can mean in moments like that.

In 2023, it rained again. But that year, she wasn’t watching. We had just lost her—barely three weeks earlier. The walk came fast, and it came heavy. What made that year so significant wasn’t something we pulled off—it was something she asked for. At her funeral, in lieu of flowers, my mom asked that donations go to Craig’s Cause. That was her final act of advocacy. It led to nearly $14,000 being raised in her name. She didn’t just inspire us—she led us, even then.

This year, the weather gave us something different.

The sun was out. It stayed with us from as we made our way around the lake. The air was still. The light soft. And for the first time, it felt like the weather wasn’t working against us.

This was also the first year we walked not just as a family—but as The Heather Cutler Foundation.

It’s hard to put into words what that shift meant. We weren’t just there to remember. We were there to represent something we’re building—something Heather inspired. After months of pushing through the learning curve of starting a nonprofit, I stood there not just as her son, but as someone working every day to make things better for others facing the same road.

This year’s walk had another powerful moment: Stefanie Condon-Oldreive, founder of Craig’s Cause, came to Newfoundland to speak. She reminded us that 80 people in Newfoundland and Labrador will be diagnosed with pancreatic cancer this year—and, based on current survival rates, almost all of them won’t make it. It’s a heavy truth. But she didn’t share it to scare anyone—she shared it because we need to face it if we’re going to change it.

We also heard from two incredible speakers.

Ramona Kelloway spoke from the heart about how pancreatic cancer has impacted her family here in St. John’s. And Greg Pike shared something rare: a survival story. His father’s chemotherapy worked. It shrank the tumor enough for him to receive a Whipple procedure—a surgery that isn’t often an option for most.

“Five years ago, pancreatic cancer wasn’t even on our radar.”

It’s not often we hear stories like Greg’s in this community. And I’ll be honest—hearing it brought a wave of emotion. Of course I wish that had been our outcome too. But it doesn’t make me bitter. It makes me hopeful. And determined. Stories like that shouldn’t be rare. We should be doing everything possible to make outcomes like that more common—especially here in provinces like ours.

This year, Team Heather included my dad, my aunt and uncle, my cousin and his girlfriend, a few of my dad’s longtime friends, and one of my best friends. My sister couldn’t be there, but she was with us in spirit, like always. We may not have had custom shirts or big signs this year, but we walked together as a team—and as an organization. That alone was something new.

There was no formal moment of silence, but there were plenty of quiet moments along the path. And to me, that says something. Pancreatic cancer is often called a “silent killer.” It’s one of the deadliest cancers in Canada, and it doesn’t always get the urgency it deserves. At times, it feels like the silence stretches into how the system responds—or doesn’t respond—to what families are facing. But that’s why we keep walking. That’s why we keep speaking up.

At the finish line, we met at the Quidi Vidi Boathouse for a group photo. The energy wasn’t loud, but it was powerful. Motivated. People felt connected. We had our photo taken in front of the event backdrop—huge thanks to my dad’s friend who captured some beautiful moments with his camera. You could feel the purpose in the room.

Craig’s Cause met their $10,000 goal. The turnout in Newfoundland was the biggest they’ve seen yet. And for us, this was more than a walk—it was a reminder of why we’re doing this work in the first place.

Just a couple weeks ago, on May 19, we relaunched our petition in the House of Commons as official e-petition e-6492. We’ve strengthened it since last year. We’re now calling more directly for federal funding and national guidelines—because unless we invest in this issue, unless we coordinate better across provinces, nothing is going to change fast enough.

And change has to come faster.

Without Craig’s Cause, there would be no Heather Cutler Foundation. They helped our family. They guided us in those early days. And now, standing beside them—as another nonprofit based here in Atlantic Canada—feels like something full circle. Stefanie started this in memory of her dad, Craig. I started ours in memory of my mom, Heather. We’ve both turned loss into something that speaks. Something that refuses to stay quiet.

We’ll keep walking.

We’ll keep raising our voices.

We’ll keep pushing for a better future.

For Heather.

For Craig.

And for the 80 families who will get this diagnosis this year.

- Christopher