This self-portrait grew out of a grief I never expected to inherit twice. My father figure took his own life in October 2025. Losing that presence has left me with a grief that is complicated and strangely familiar.
I say familiar because this is the second time suicide has reshaped my family. I lost my grandfather in the same way, long before I was old enough to understand anything except the hush that followed his death. That same hush returned with this loss. Mourning in the shadow of suicide feels like inheriting a secret no one wants to name.
In this painting, the halo behind my head is a form of a grudgy, misunderstood kind of holiness. The tear on my cheek is the grief that leaks through despite my best attempts to stay composed, despite the expectations to move on quickly, neatly, and acceptably.
This piece is my way of acknowledging the complexity of loving someone who kept parts of themselves hidden, and of mourning losses that come wrapped in shame that doesn’t belong to me.
