Story by Rob Brodie, Photos by Susan D. Russell

The solitude, Joannie Rochette admits, is when the heartbreak pains her the most. When she feels so utterly alone in her grief.

Those quiet moments you’d expect to be eagerly embraced by a humble young woman from small-town Quebec just aren’t the same anymore. The ability to lose herself in idle thoughts is gone for now.

"When you’re at the Olympics, you don’t have much time to think. You’re so busy all the time," Rochette told IFS in looking back upon the tragic whirlwind that engulfed her when she should have been savoring the moment. "But now, when I’m alone, that’s when it’s harder because I have time to think. I still think I don’t fully realize it and that’s one of the first parts when you’re grieving … having time to realize it [and] then you take a couple of steps and finally accept it. That can take a lot of time.

"I don’t expect myself to get through all of that [quickly] but I know, up until I take a break from skating, I won’t fully realize what happened."

As she spoke on a late Saturday night in March, Rochette was a month removed from the week in which she turned her worst nightmare into her greatest triumph, all of it played out on the world’s biggest sporting stage at the 2010 Olympic Winter Games in Vancouver.

When it was over, millions around the globe had embraced the petite Canadian skater who won an Olympic bronze medal just days after her beloved mother, Thérèse, died of a sudden heart attack. Thérèse and her husband Normand had arrived in Vancouver just one day earlier, eager to watch their only child live out her biggest dream.

Moving Forward

The entire week is still a blur to Rochette, who guesses it will stay that way for some time yet. There is too much to do right now - she is touring with Stars on Ice in the United States and Japan until the end of May. Rochette and agent David Baden are fielding a number of offers for various projects, including movie and book deals. Her world is spinning perhaps faster than she probably ever imagined it could.

"It’s been a little overwhelming and I had lots of opportunities when I got back," said the 24-year-old native of tiny Ile-Dupas, Que., a mostly French-speaking community. "It’s great to be received like that but I don’t realize everything that’s happened yet. It’s going to take a couple of months, maybe a couple of years, for it to really sink in and for me to accept."

The reality of it all, however, is inescapable at times. Even the moment she had first envisioned as a child - standing on the Olympic podium, medal draped around her neck - proved to be terribly bittersweet.

"I couldn’t believe it," Rochette said of that night at Pacific Coliseum. "I thought, ‘Wow, I did it.’ I wanted to be happy, but there was so much emotion with my mom not being there. Usually, my mom doesn’t watch me skate - she goes to the washroom because she’s too nervous. But then [when I’m on] the podium, she comes back and she can clap in the stands with my dad. It was hard because she’s usually there when I get the medal. This time, she wasn’t."

The ice has also been her sanctuary from all of this. So when Rochette was presented with the opportunity for two months of touring - a handful of shows in Florida, then Stars on Ice in Japan, a return home to Canada, then back to the United States and finishing up in Korea - she knew where she needed to be. So, too, did the other person in her life feeling the same massive void.

"Nothing will bring back my mother," Rochette said. "My father is really pushing me through and [encouraging me to] keep going."

Along the way, skating fans around the world will continue to marvel at Rochette’s ability to skate through the pain. Her performances in Vancouver, though, were pure inspiration for Canadian Olympic athletes across the board.