Finding Light Through Loss…

Loss has a way of shaking the foundations of our lives, forcing us to confront emotions we’d rather avoid, memories we thought were tucked away, and questions we never expected to ask. Recently, I experienced this firsthand when I lost someone who once held a VERY special place in my heart. Yuri, my ex-partner from years ago, passed away unexpectedly. Though our relationship ended long ago, it was a connection that shaped me in ways I’m only now beginning to fully understand.

The funeral was an emotional whirlwind. crying as memories flooded back. Seeing Yuri’s photo displayed there for all to see – a version of him from when we were together – brought it all rushing back: the love, the frustration, the laughter, the unanswered questions. I lit a candle for him that day, whispering my goodbyes and grappling with the reality that I would never truly know all the pieces of his story.

Yuri took his own life. He was someone who seemed so happy on the surface – always joking, working hard, and caring deeply for others. It’s a painful reminder that even those who appear to shine the brightest can be quietly fighting their own battles. He refused to let others see his darkness, but in doing so, he carried it alone, until it became too much to bear (*more about this below)…

Art as a Mirror to Grief

When I paint, it’s rarely about making sense of things. It’s about letting my emotions flow through colours, textures, and shapes that speak louder than words ever could. In the days after Yuri’s passing, I found myself reaching for bright, bold colours – much like I always do – but this time, they felt different. They weren’t just a celebration of joy or peace. They were a defiant reminder that light and beauty still exist, even in the midst of pain.

Grief has a way of clouding everything, making it hard to see beyond the immediate heaviness. But when I sit down to create, I find fragments of hope in unexpected places. A streak of vibrant magenta might feel like a spark of life in the middle of the quiet sadness. A swirling brushstroke can mimic the chaos I’m feeling inside but somehow make it feel more manageable.

A Tribute Through Creation

For me, art has become a way to honour Yuri’s memory. Not through portraits or literal representations, but by leaning into the emotions he stirred in me – both the love and the complexity. Painting has allowed me to acknowledge his impact on my life while also carving out space for my own healing.

In some ways, it feels like a conversation with him. Each brushstroke is a way of saying, I remember. Each bold colour is a way of claiming, I choose to keep living fully. And every completed piece feels like a small step forward – a reminder that life continues, even when it feels like the world has stopped spinning.

For Those Navigating Loss

Whether you’ve lost someone recently or years ago, grief is a deeply personal journey. It doesn’t follow a timeline or fit neatly into stages. What I’ve learned through this experience is that creativity – whether it’s painting, writing, gardening, or even cooking – can be a gentle companion in the process.

Art doesn’t have to fix anything or make the pain go away. It’s simply a space where you can be honest with yourself. It’s a place to pour out what you’re feeling without judgment, to let your heart speak in ways that words might fail to.

For me, painting has been a way to keep Yuri’s memory alive while also finding my own footing again. It’s a way of turning loss into light, piece by piece, colour by colour.

If you’re feeling grief right now, I hope you find something – anything – that helps you feel connected to yourself, to the person you’ve lost, or to the world around you. And if that something happens to be art, know that every mark you make, no matter how small, is a step toward healing.

Thank you for sharing this journey with me. If you’ve ever experienced something similar or want to talk about how art has helped you through tough times, I’d love to hear from you – feel free to leave a comment below – or to email me if it’s too personal. Let’s find light together.

Mimi

* The Hidden Struggle of Smiling Depression

I have been thinking A LOT lately and I now realise Yuri might have been dealing with something called smiling depression. People with smiling depression often appear happy, successful, and upbeat, masking their inner struggles so well that even those closest to them don’t suspect anything is wrong. Common signs include overworking, avoiding deep emotional conversations, perfectionism, or always seeming “fine” no matter what’s happening.

Although I won’t delve into all the details of our relationship, I want to share a few that might resonate – especially if they make you think of someone you love who might be struggling beneath the surface.

Yuri always seemed happy, curious, and full of life. He was passionate and loving, excited about everything, and always planning our dates down to the smallest detail. He was highly intelligent and academic, yet equally happy playing an instrument or riding his motorbike.

He lived a busy, vibrant life – working two jobs, helping his family and friends, and setting athletic goals like surfing at dawn or jogging daily. He never let himself falter, always striving to meet the high standards he set for himself. But even in those seemingly perfect moments, I could sense something deeper. I used to describe it as a “wall around his heart” – a barrier he never denied but never let me break through. He didn’t want to go there himself, and he kept me at a safe distance from it, too.

Looking back now, it’s easier to see how he kept me away from that wall:

• When I asked personal questions, especially about his childhood, he’d often deflect with vague answers or turn the conversation back to me.

• With all his activities, we only saw each other 2 or 3 times a week and even though the love was there, he found reasons for us not to live together .

• And when things felt too close when I got near that emotional wall he would retreat. He’d break up with me for reasons that never felt quite true, only to come back, overwhelmed with joy when we reunited.

At the time, I didn’t fully understand these patterns, but now I can see they were ways of protecting himself. He was carrying something so heavy that even those closest to him couldn’t touch it.

I hope sharing this gives you pause to reflect on the people in your life who might be hiding their struggles behind walls of their own. Sometimes, the happiest and most driven people are the ones hurting the most.

If someone in your life seems to fit this description, don’t hesitate to check in with them – even if they appear fine on the surface. Ask how they are really feeling, and let them know it’s safe to open up to you. That conversation might feel uncomfortable or awkward at first, but it could be the lifeline they didn’t realise they needed.

It’s also important to remember that people with smiling depression are often unaware of their own struggles. After convincing themselves for years that they’re “fine,” they may genuinely believe it. Your kindness and willingness to see beyond their facade could make all the difference.

Please share below if any of this resonates with you.