I WILL CARRY THIS STONE (2025-ongoing)
Three years ago my mother died of illness. Whilst clearing out her house, I found an envelope marked Scotland ’88. My mother, the same age I am now, on holiday with her parents. As I looked through the photos, I was flooded with memories of the many trips I took with my mother as a child, even though I had never been to Scotland myself. Even though I was looking at memories I hadn’t experienced myself, she was alive again for a brief moment. 

This got me thinking. To what extent is she actually gone? Is there still life after loss? And how do you convey the absence of someone who is still so tangible? With these questions in mind, I set off for Scotland myself, seeking the realisation that my mother would not be there. What I found instead was a different way of dealing with her death than the one we are often taught.

We are often told that time heals all wounds. I don’t believe this. To me, it implies that loss is a burden we need to get rid of. Whereas, for me, that loss holds beautiful or educational memories. Memories I might not even have paid attention to, had that loss not occurred. Memories I want to give space to, to live together with. I therefore believe that absence is not absolute. It leaves traces of its presence, so that the past can teach us how to interpret the present. And carry it. Grief is not something to be cast aside, but something to be borne with pride.