Grief’s Cage
March 17, 2023 • Major Work
Grief is love with nowhere to go
Introduction
Some works take years before the words arrive.
Grief's Cage was created during one of the quietest seasons of my life, but I couldn't explain it then. I only knew I needed to make it.
Looking back now, I understand the piece wasn't about loss alone, but about what grief does to identity. It narrows the world until survival becomes the only objective, and then, almost without noticing, begins asking whether you're willing to live again.
This page brings together the artwork, my journals, and the reflections that slowly emerged in the years that followed.
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Reflection [Updated June 15, 2026]
I've been running for as long as I can remember. I can't get myself to stop. Yet, I feel like I've been frozen in time for years.
There are days where, out of nowhere, I get punched in the face by grief. Days where I have swollen, bloodshot eyes, where I feel like I'm waterlogged after a day of swimming.
The kind of grief that won't dry up, no matter what you do.
So what am I to do?
Grief snapped something in me, like I'm waiting for my turn to die. A very large part of me died with my heart-dog, Izzie.
My identity, my routine, my stability, my home; my whole life was wrapped around her.
She brought out the best in me: provider, protector, nurturer, adventurer, mother.
The parts of me that I considered as my "goodness" no longer had relevance.
After she passed, I was not present in life for quite a while.
Time became strange. The world continued moving as though nothing had happened, while mine had come to a complete stop.
Those first few months were unbearable. The silence in the house was deafening. The extra meat on my plate went uneaten. My bed felt cold and empty. Everything that once brought me joy had simply stopped making sense.
I spent a lot of time just staring at nothing and crying.
I kept saying, "I don't want anything." I didn't care to eat, make art, go anywhere, or speak to anyone. All I wanted was her.
Every cell in my body called out for her like a phantom limb reaching for something that no longer existed. I felt tortured by her closeness. She was right there, buried in my garden! I just wanted to dig and claw desperately to get to her body, but I knew she was no longer inside it.
For a while, I didn't have the strength to put my feelings into words. I felt like if they stayed buzzing round behind my eyes without being set free, then I could continue to live in a world that felt like it ended in my grief.
I had spent so much time withdrawn that my mind-body connection was severed. When the lights in my head started to turn back on, one by one, I had to relearn ordinary things.
Like how to drive, how to ride a bike, and even how to have a conversation.
My memories were clouded and seemed out of reach. It felt like I was watching someone else live my life from a distance. I'd hear myself talk but I didn't recognize who was speaking.
I still struggle with connection. Most of the time I just don't know what to say. Sometimes grief convinces me that too much time has passed. That everyone else kept moving while I remained frozen.
Even though it feels like my grief still has me caged, I can see the open door now. Life won't wait for me to let myself out. The world will keep spinning madly on.
Healing doesn't happen all at once. It happens every time I smile at a neighbor. Every bike ride. Every flower picked. Every piece of artwork completed. Every conversation I'm brave enough to begin again.
We're all walking down a one way path. We forget that the only constant in life is change. The longer I live, the more I will meet with Death. You can laugh or you can cry about it. I usually do both.
But I know by now, there's no avoiding it.
Grief is not the bad guy. Feeling it does not make you broken. It just means that you experienced a bond so deep that it ripples through space-time. Where, no matter where you are, or what you're doing, you can feel that love long after they're gone.
It's the only thing I know without question.
In the simplest terms, I have to get used to grief.
I need to become familiar with how it affects my perception of the world around me, how it affects my relationships with those close to me, how I process it, and in which steps.
Grief will always be the price of love. Izzie showed me what true unconditional love was.
Grief teaches me humility, in the fact that we will all, eventually, meet our own end.
It teaches me empathy, and how important presence is with those who we love.
Until you let go, and go with the flow, you'll struggle to stay afloat.
It will only continue to crash into you, wave after wave, crushing the breath from your lungs, swelling with or without the tide.
Grief starts to tumble the broken edges of your soul until the shards turn into sand.
I have learned how important it is to get comfortable with loss, to look for those moments of joy, enjoy the sun when it shines, and to greet death as an old friend, with love, respect, and honor.
Because life's a beach, make it a nice one.
Work Details
Created: March 19, 2023
Writing Updated: June 15, 2026
Collection: Heaven's Gate
Category: Major Work
Medium: Digital Illustration • Created on Autodesk Sketchbook + Galaxy Note 10+ Tablet & Stylus
Dimensions: 8000x8000
Techniques: Hand-drawn fine line illustration • High-density linework • Neo-impressionism • Pointillism & stippling • Radial symmetry • Layered symbolism • Optical color blending
Primary Themes: Grief • Identity • Loss • Isolation • Memory • Love • Emotional transformation
Primary Motif:
Related Works: The Izzie Archive, Heaven’s Gate, Izzie’s Garden, Sunshine Daisy Daydream, Phoenix Fire, Fractal Future
This piece is one chapter in a much larger story.
Discover what came before, what followed, and how this work fits into the evolution of my artistic practice.
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