02/28/2026
There are weeks that hold both celebration and ache.
This week, I marked another trip around the sun. My first birthday without my Dad. Grief has a way of softening joy. It’s been tender. Heavy in moments.
And yet, the arts, and my people, showed up for me.
I sat in the dining room of his hotel and watched his beloved dinner theatre unfold. Laughter rising, glasses clinking, stories told under warm lights. Friends beside me. Steady. Kind.
Holding space without trying to fix it.
Last night, I stood in an old church as Reuben and the Dark and The Bullhorn Singers filled the room with song, powerful and beautiful. I felt carried. Not alone.
The arts gather us. So do good friends. They help us feel what we can’t always name. They remind us that even in sorrow, there is still beauty. Still connection. Still light.
This week, I’m especially grateful for art in all its forms, and for the ones who sit beside me in it. For the way they carry us. For the way they keep love present.
With love,
Krista
