Held By Love

For a long time after the loss of my son, love felt inseparable from pain. If something hurt, it was because it mattered. If I missed him deeply, it was because I had loved him deeply. Those two truths felt tangled, and I didn’t know how to separate them—or if I even should.

I spent so long anticipating the next wave of regret, the next memory, the next moment that might knock the breath out of me until somewhere along the way, I realized that waiting for the tears had become its own kind of exhaustion.

This painting isn’t about happiness or healing in any tidy sense. It’s about noticing that even in the midst of grief—sometimes especially there—love remains present. Not as a solution. Not as something that makes the loss acceptable. Just present.  

Steady. Unmoving.