Life After Death

She died two days before I moved to San Diego. I have never suffered so many losses in a single summer. From getting cheated on and filing a restraining order against my abusive father, her death hit me the hardest. To say I was heartbroken was an understatement.

Even without her physical presence, I still see her in every aspect of my life. In the first couple weeks of school, I would often wake up in the middle of the night because my body was used to waking up to take care of her. In her last couple months of life, she needed 24-hour care and I would have to help her use the bathroom every 4 hours through the night. Although it was sad to wake up and have no one to wake up to, it was nice to see that my body still remembered her. It also led to the realization that for the first time in my life, I didn’t have anyone else to take care of but myself.

As an older sibling in a troubled home, I spent years of my childhood taking care of everyone else. In my own way, I was a second parent to my sister and my father. Moving to San Diego, I realized that after spending so much time taking care of others I forgot how to take care of myself. Through resilience and patience, I was able to explore different aspects of myself I couldn’t before. I went to therapy for the first time and was able to focus on my needs. I pushed myself out of my comfort zone and found that I quite like baking, crocheting, sewing, and going to the beach. However, the one thing I enjoyed most was gardening. Not only did it make me feel closer to my grandma who was an avid gardener herself, I was amazed at how I could nurture life from a small seed. Similarly, I learned to nurture myself and I am proud to say I am thriving. I faced my fears, succeeded in getting at least A-s for my first quarter, and I continue to challenge myself in life.

I made the sculpture Life after Death as a tribute to my grandma and all the love she left behind. Despite all my hardships, this artwork represents my journey in self-love and care. The four roses are a reference to my Chinese heritage in which the pronunciation of the number four sounds like death. It also relates to the times I would wake up in the middle of the night every 4 hours to care for her. While I used to try to push my emotions down, this artwork embodies how I have learned to embrace my feelings of grief and find peace. It challenges the idea that death always signifies an ending. However, life is always resilient in the face of hardships and there will always be life after death.