Hi, I'm Honor
Updated: Oct 23
Thought I would start off with a little introduction.
I've always been an artist.
I'm a mama.
The two identities I'm most proud of and grateful for.
And while I've always been a maker, a do-er a producer of things, this iteration of my creative spark is one of catharsis and a joy seeking journey while learning how to carry complex grief with grace. An overly wordy and roundabout way to say that three years ago my 9 year old son Leland suddenly and tragically died and I had to do something with that grief, or else it was going to consume me. Something to occupy my mind, my hands, my heart. To distract but also not to. A place where I could linger in my thoughts and memories of him, or wander down another path. I wanted choice, I wanted control of something tangible. After many years of creating nothing, one of the bravest things I've ever done is pick up my paintbrush and start painting Leland. Right in the middle of the dining room with my other children, Leland's brothers and sister watching. As Leland's likeness came to life on the canvas, I fell apart, they fell apart, we fell apart together. With a deep breath, as Leland's rosy cheeks and dirty feet became memorialized on a repurposed canvas leaning on our bookshelves, we started to put ourselves back together, together. While each of us have our own intimate relationship with grief and what it means to live life without someone we love, and parts as a mother losing their child I will keep precious to myself, I didnt want to rob my children or myself of the joy that Leland brought, is still bringing and will bring. It's counter intuitive within every fiber of our discomfort avoidant beings, but I found turning towards and facing the pain, letting it wash over us and pass, made us closer, stronger and surprisingly more joyful
It is a peculiar feeling, grief. Especially so with the loss of a child. The wrongness of it all. You learn very quickly how to hold two separate truths at the same time. Feeling simultaneously achingly hollow while also filled, stretched beyond recognition with unclaimed bespoke love. You want to do everything and nothing all at once. Shifting from an unquenchable motivation to find purpose and meaning, do something with purpose with meaning to an apathetic numbness of 'Meh. Does it really matter? Will it really matter?'. That negging voice whispering oh so convincing incantations to stay curled up, paralyzed and isolated on the floor, both literally and figuratively.
But
that love doesnt go anywhere.
Love matters. It is matter. Not ours to destroy, but a gift to transform, to direct, to amplify. Sometimes that love appears in a disguised form of profound pain and sadness, but at its very root is love. And that is what I'm doing with my painting. The physical act of creating is like pulling on the unbreakable thread of love pouring from my heart and I'm weaving it into a gift. For myself. For someone I love. For someone I have yet to meet.
So with that, I thank you for being here on this journey of painting, of healing
Xoxo
Honor
Just a fair warning I will be using this space to compile more of my thoughts and discoveries about grief, faith, hope, motherhood, endurance and how the messiest parts of life are actually the most beautiful.
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