I do My Grieving in the Morning.

My mom died, unexpectedly, on Thursday March 23, 2023. That night my dad, uncle, and I went to my brother and sister-in-law’s house for dinner. I was sitting in the living room with my sister-in-law and two nephews, who were 6 and 3 years old at the time.

One of my nephews asked where grandma was and why is she late for dinner? “It’s rude!” My sister-in-law agreed that it was rude grandma was late for dinner. She went on to explain grandma will never be over for dinner because she died that morning. My other nephew asked, “well, where is grandma?” I was curious to hear what my sister-in-law would say, because I too was wondering where my mom was. My sister-in-law explained that my mom was everywhere: in the trees, in the ocean, in the flowers, in the light. It sounds childish, but I clung to this idea that my mom was everywhere. I still do.

Throughout the first year without my mom, I felt my mom in the light. Whenever there was light, no matter what kind of light, I felt my mom. So I began making photographs when I had this feeling. What resulted was this collection of photographs.

It’s been over two years since my mom died and I still feel her in the light. These days, however, I’ve started leaving her voice notes, like she’s on the telephone with me and I’m leaving her a voice message or we’re having a chat.