Remembering :: my mother

A poster about loss

It is exactly one year ago that my mother passed away. I know grief is a strange beast but somehow I thought I would be more accepting at the one year anniversary.

I’m not.

I’ve been told time heals all wounds.

It doesn’t.

All time gives you is the ability to adapt – it’s like sitting in the one position for too long and you adjust your body to find comfort. The pain doesn’t really disappear – it’s still there and I’ve learned to accommodate it.

This semester we’ve been challenged to produce two design outcomes that focus on an event from which you a strong emotional response. I thought it would be very hard, cathartic maybe, but very hard to return to the hour on the other side of the world when I heard the news. The first outcome had to be a poster and this is my final design. When I think back on those first few months after losing Mum I found myself explaining it to friends that I felt as if my North Star had disappeared over the horizon and I had no direction. The compass is also a nod to my mother’s seafaring heritage and one of our favourite quilt block patterns.

My second outcome is in production and if you’ve ever seen ‘Prosperos Books’ you may get and inkling of what it’s about.


Comments

3 responses to “Remembering :: my mother”

  1. I don’t believe in time healing wounds, either. Maybe it does for some, but for me, loss is still loss, a big gaping hole where something or someone used to be. Time passing for me is pretty much what you described – the ability to live with the pain that’s still there in full force rather than the pain subsiding.

    I’m still so sorry for your loss, Libby. I just wanted to stop by and acknowledge that with you.

  2. It’s absolutely beautiful. And so full of emotion.

    I’m sorry it’s still so hard. I’m glad you had a mom you loved so much and felt so connected to. I hope there are so many happy moments mixed in with the sadness and loneliness. Healing doesn’t mean we are like we used to be. Healing means we’ve patched up the tears and holes. May you continue to find peace and healing, even if it’s just in moments for now.

  3. This is such a beautiful, fragile expression of your sorrow. Been thinking of you this week. Sending you hugs. xoxo

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