Touched by Grace
Some moments are miniscule. Some lives are brief. Some touches last forever.
Greta Grace was born too early and too fragile. Her life was measured in hours, but in those hours, she left a mark that can never be erased. In this painting, her tiny fingers curl around her father’s massive hand. A gigantic grasp, a fleeting touch, but one that carries a universe of love, hope, and heartbreak.
This is more than a painting. It’s a reminder that even the briefest of lives leave the biggest legacies. Love exists, even when presence does not. That loss and love can coexist, and somehow, in that space, time is extended.
This work is holding a story, a memory, a connection that whispers quietly but powerfully: every life matters, every love leaves its mark.
Touched by Grace
Some moments are miniscule. Some lives are brief. Some touches last forever.
Greta Grace was born too early and too fragile. Her life was measured in hours, but in those hours, she left a mark that can never be erased. In this painting, her tiny fingers curl around her father’s massive hand. A gigantic grasp, a fleeting touch, but one that carries a universe of love, hope, and heartbreak.
This is more than a painting. It’s a reminder that even the briefest of lives leave the biggest legacies. Love exists, even when presence does not. That loss and love can coexist, and somehow, in that space, time is extended.
This work is holding a story, a memory, a connection that whispers quietly but powerfully: every life matters, every love leaves its mark.
Hands of generations. Tiny hands seeking comfort, Grandma's hands offering security. My grandbaby was so tired, and sleepy, as you can see from her tiny fist raised to her eyes. Clutching my hand, she was seeking a safe space to fall asleep. Offering her my hand, I offered reassurance. I’m here, rest now.
