Instead of journaling privately, these thoughts were recently being written as letters to a best friend who is no longer here. A way of continuing a conversation that, in another form, never really stopped.

On August 14th, the journal read:

“Dear Rosie,

I just finished these two small paintings I’ve been playing around with and building up for months. They look like abstract joy bottled up in clouds and they made me think of you.

Yesterday Chanelle told me something that stuck with me- that just because you’re not physically here anymore, it doesn’t mean our friendship disappears too. It just looks a little different now. I told her I missed your deep belly laughs and the way you always answered my phone calls in the same way for over a decade. I cried at that. It’s the little things that get to me now.

But today I’m feeling this sense you’re with me in the studio, I imagined you there asking inquisitive questions about what I was painting with curiosity and wonder.

I know grief never fully goes away, losing you isn’t something I can just move on from or get over. But maybe that grief can be transformed or alchemized into purpose, passion, and motivation to aim for all the things we talked about.

One day I’ll have that gallery and collective studio space we envisioned, I think I’ll call it ‘Rosie’s’.

I love you pal, let me know if you’re in the clouds now, ok?”