where does all the grief go?

mini-letter on this un-holiday

On this day of non-celebration, I wanted to share a piece here that I recently created while navigating some big feelings. I hope today you find joy, love, connection. xox

Passed down cotton scrap quilt top. Unfinished. Letters made from inherited white cotton. Use of italic Helvetica inspired by Flora Wilds. June 2025

There is so much to grieve, so much devastation, so much to despair over. When I’m on the bus, I look at other passengers and think to myself, do these people feel it too? Why aren’t we all sobbing, crying, screaming constantly? I know I’m not alone but sometimes it feels so. I don’t want to be numbed. With every belly-aching cry, every feeling of despair, anger, sadness that cycles through my body I am reminded of our shared humanity. I have so much of it, but where does all the grief go?

I want to alchemize this grief into something new, beautiful, resistant and imaginative. I am finding threads of optimism in every time I act. I find inspiration in my community, in queer people and our resilience. I release some heaviness every time I dance, sing, move. I am finding connection when I show up, even when I want to crawl into a hole and hide. But even with momentum, the grief is ever-present and heavy.

I wrote about grief a few months ago: “I fear that my grief is forcibly ever-expanding, stretching out along a wingspan so wide I can’t possibly see the ends. I don’t know how to hold it, but I am certain there is no choice.” with new wisdom I’ll revise it with this: the choice of grief is not about holding it or not, it is thrust upon us in ways we can’t control. The choice is allowing it to propel us toward something. I resolve to transform my grief. I don’t know quite how yet. But I’m trying.

I made this using a quilt top that my late grandmother Billie made before her death nearly 25 years ago. I’ve inherited a lot of materials from her and I plan on incorporating them into my work. I like to think of this as a cross-generational collaboration. My grandmother died when I was too young to remember much. I often wonder what she would think of me now. I’m proud to be following in her footsteps as a textile artist, getting to know her through her stitches. Thank you, Billie.

xx,