She Talks To Angels…

This week marks 15 years since my son died.

It feels so foreign to say that, so unreal to just put it out there. But it is a fact and there is no way around it. I tried.

If you see me on social media, I do talk about him from time to time, usually on anniversaries or if I’ve made a piece inspired by him in some way. I would talk about him everyday if I could get away with it. I settle for talking to him in my heart.

Over the years I have thought about creating a collection in his honor but somehow it never felt right. There is a part of me that just wants to keep him to myself…grief and loss is complex and layered with all kinds of emotions and windows of reality. Some are crystal clear and the most painful and others are hazy, always just under the surface, waiting to break through unexpectedly. Those ones catch you smack in chest, taking your breath away and leaving you in a crumble of tears.

And then you get up, tuck the tears back in and carry on.

You do this over and over again.

And yet, you know it is your strongest connection to them, and wouldn’t have it any other way.

I have been quietly working on a few pieces…pieces that have held space for me…pieces that honor him…pieces that I am ready to share with you. It feels sacred and I know I’m not done creating like this.