What began as a title for a photo gallery became a photographic essay as I processed the loss of my Mom. As it grew, I realized that from exploring the day to day, from my walks through Denver and beyond, there were pockets of beauty to help heal a broken heart. I was skeptical at first, but learned to embrace the pain through exploring narratives.

What if the pain you feel is their pain, from the other side.

What if the energies left behind, after a body is pronounced dead, lingers as it transitions.

Is this how grief is processed? Is this what it means that you never overcome it, but learn to carry it?