Several years ago, the pain in my heart from losing my son Charles to suicide was so intense, I needed a way to manage the pain and lessen the suffering. This is a creative exploration of my grieving heart through pictures.
While it didn’t make the pain go away, it helped to have something to scan for daily. From this idea, the #griefheart project was born. That task alone really did give me purpose and meaning.
Here’s what I didn’t expect
Unexpected was the outpouring and sharing of hearts across … Read more...
I have not posted a #griefheart in a long time. I have had this one in mind for a while and was stumped in regard to how to illustrate the concept. Someone sent this and it was close enough.
Charles loved the James River and he was the worst swimmer on the planet. Dog paddle was the only stroke he knew and even that was pathetic. I took him to lessons for years. And would not get it because it was too cold. So I took him to an indoor pool that was heated. Richard … Read more...
When you drop something and it breaks, you have this feeling that you want to reverse what just happened. Like there is something you could have done to prevent it from shattering on the floor. Even in that brief second before it breaks you feel that sense of panic of, “What can I do to stop this from happening?”
Sometimes when you catch it before it breaks, you feel a sense of victory and you breathe a sigh of relief. There are times I so wish I had had that opportunity to save my son. Seen in coming … Read more...
Grief is a gift because it represents the love I still feel for my son, Charles who died by suicide. My friend Kay sent this to me. She carries a similar one in her handbag to remind her of her mom who died a few years ago.
I have to tell you that before I started this project, I was not a fan of hearts. Now I see them everywhere. And I have you guys seeing them everywhere. Thank you for making grief OK.
I saw this at CVS today and it made me think of how my heart is bandaged together, how some days I am just holding it together since Charles’ suicide.
On this particular trip to the drugstore, I see a young African American man holding a baby girl about 6 weeks old. She is scrunched up and cuddled on her daddy’s chest sleeping while he is picking up a couple of items.
While I am standing in line, I can see him outside the window as he puts his bag in the car and takes a selfie of the baby … Read more...
I read in Charles’ music, how much he wanted to be in the clouds. They represented peace and relief from his pain. They do for me, too. Always have. I think of these as love notes in the sky from my child that died by suicide.
This one from Amy. I love it because there is all that Carolina blue contrasting with the snow white clouds.