December Reflections: Loss, Love, and New Beginnings

This blog is a new space for me. Not a gallery of paintings, but a place for the stories behind them—the moments that shape the brushstrokes. My life, my wins and losses, my learning. Growth.

I started this website to share my art journey and teach myself how to build something from scratch. I noticed the platform had selling options, one thing led to another, and suddenly I had a business. Artavi Studio was born not from a grand plan, but from curiosity and care. I don’t expect fame or riches. I started this for me. If it inspires—or even just entertains—I’ll feel proud. If it becomes lucrative, I’ll feel accomplished. But that’s not the goal. The goal is growth and connection; a place to share my journey.

And connection, lately, has been laced with heartbreak.

My mother passed away on Friday after a brief but fierce battle with cancer. Context
It’s strange to write that sentence. Stranger still to feel how final it is. Six months ago, I could’ve woken up and called either of my parents. Now they are both gone.

Her passing was gentle and quick, just as she had hoped. She was surrounded by love—my sisters and I by her side.

Time is such a strange thing. We never have enough, yet we’re always impatient. It stretches and collapses, dilates and disappears. We can’t go back, but we carry forward—sometimes with sadness, sometimes with paint, sometimes with the smile of a memory, sometimes with a dog curled beside us.

As mentioned in the link above, losing her feels like losing that safe space you thought would always exist—the place where adulthood could loosen its grip. Home. She was “home” for many, not just her blood kin. Her colleagues, our childhood friends, neighbors, and countless others felt her warmth. But especially for my siblings, nephews, and me. She loved her sons-in-law as fiercely as her own children, and her devotion to her grandsons was radiant and unshakable.

And so, even in loss, I return to the canvas.

I have commissions in progress—gifts that will be shared once they’ve found their homes. And I’ve been working on larger canvases, stretching into new territory. Some pieces are abstract. Some are personal. All are stitched with story. These will be viewable and available in the coming days along with a sale to celebrate my mother and the season.

If you’re still here and still reading, thank you. Whether you’re grieving with me, growing with me, or simply curious—I hope this space feels like an open door. One you can walk through without knocking.

From the quiet heartbeat of Tavi beside me to the canvas before me—this is how I carry forward.

May the brushstrokes carry memory, may the stars remind us that love endures, and may we always find our way back to home.