05/26/2026
Here's why I've been quiet.
A little over a month ago, my aunt was diagnosed with cancer.
She is not just my aunt. She is my mom in every way that matters.
When I heard, I shattered.
Then the call came. Not even a week after her diagnosis.
"Come now"
I left my therapy session halfway. Booked a flight. Sat through 30 hours of agonizing travel, head numb, tears falling, waiting for updates I knew my family would soften to protect me.
I was angry. I didn't need protection. I needed to know so I could process.
When I finally saw her I was so happy to be there.
And so broken.
I sat with her. Fed her. Cleaned her. Held her. Shared stories of joy and comfort.
And then stepped away and cried where she couldn't see me.
I smiled in front of her and broke quietly. Every single day.
I had two weeks with her. I thought I had years.
Grief doesn't care what I know. It doesn't care that I teach emotional processing through art. It just moves through you.
The anger. The guilt. The sadness. The regret. The love underneath all of it.
No way of processing is wrong. No pace is too slow. No emotion is too much.
I lived that in my body these past weeks. Not just in my mind.
If you are carrying something heavy right now - something you smile through in public and fall apart from in private -
I see you.
You are not less for feeling it.
You are not alone in it.
If you need an ear, I'm here.
I am working on something for anyone who resonates with me.
