Why Tori’s Mosaic Stayed Ungrouted (Until Now)
🖤 This Was a Hard Piece to Finish
Tori’s Mosaic — Grief, Love, and Letting Go
🌿 Introduction
Some mosaics take longer than others.
Not because of the design.
Not because of the technique.
👉 But because of what they mean.
Tori’s mosaic sat on my chimney for over a year.
Unfinished.
Ungrouted.
Waiting.
Not because I couldn’t finish it.
👉 Because I wasn’t ready to let her go.
💫 If you’ve ever struggled to finish a piece that holds meaning, you’re not alone. Sometimes the pause is part of the process—not a failure.
🎯 What This Piece Holds
By the end of this reflection, you may recognise:
- How grief can shape the creative process
- Why some artworks take longer to complete
- That unfinished doesn’t mean abandoned
- How art can become part of healing
🌿 The Hardest Goodbye
Tori wasn’t just a cat.
She was:
- My baby
- My best friend
- My constant
We lived life alongside each other.
Pregnant at the same time.
Raising our little ones together.
She knew things.
When I was unwell:
👉 she’d head-bop me gently
👉 lead me to bed
She followed me on walks with the dogs like she belonged there.
Because she did.
One day, she brought a baby guinea pig inside.
Perfectly safe.
Just to show me.
And when it came time for her to give birth…
👉 she didn’t want to do it without me holding her paw.
That was Tori.
🖼️ The Memory That Became the Mosaic
The last sketch I drew of her was just weeks before she got sick.
She was sitting on the couch.
Looking out through the glass doors.
Pretending not to care.
But her ear…
👉 turned back toward me.
Listening.
That moment became the mosaic.
🌿 Why I Couldn’t Grout Her
She passed on the 6th of the 6th, 2024.
And if you know me…
you know I notice patterns like that.
But this one wasn’t interesting.
It wasn’t symbolic.
👉 It just hurt.
After she died:
- I stopped mosaicing
- I stopped creating
I finished her piece.
Installed it.
And then…
👉 I couldn’t take the final step.
Because grouting felt like something more.
It felt like:
👉 closing it
👉 sealing it
👉 saying goodbye
And I wasn’t ready.
🌿 The Moment I Finally Did
This year…
I finally did it.
I grouted her mosaic.
Slowly.
Gently.
Giving her little pats as I worked—
like I always did.
I cried the whole time.
But I finished it.
Not perfectly.
Not cleanly.
👉 But honestly.
There are still repairs to make.
But the hardest part?
👉 It’s done.
🌿 What This Mosaic Means
Grouting her mosaic wasn’t just finishing a piece.
It was:
👉 cementing her place in my life
Literally.
And emotionally.
She’s in the wall now.
Just like she’s in me.
Even at the end…
when she was weak…
sitting by the heater…
👉 she purred.
Until the very last moment.
She loved me that much.
And I loved her back.
🎨 Core Reflection: Some Art Holds Grief
Not all mosaics are about colour.
Or design.
Or technique.
Some are about:
- Loss
- Memory
- Love that doesn’t go away
And those pieces…
👉 take time.
💛 A Gentle Truth
If you have a piece you can’t finish—
It doesn’t mean you’ve failed.
👉 It might just mean it matters.
🌿 Final Thoughts: Some Pieces Take Time
Some mosaics come together quickly.
Others wait.
Because you’re not just working with tiles.
👉 You’re working with feeling.
And when the time comes—
you’ll know.
Just like I did.
🔗 Internal Linking Opportunities
- Stories Behind the Mosaics
- Beginner Mosaic Guide
- Healing Through Mosaic Art
- Mosaic Grouting Guide
- Animal-Inspired Mosaics
🎥 Suggested Video Idea
“Grouting Tori’s Mosaic (A Personal Moment)”
- Quiet, emotional footage
- Minimal talking
- Let the process speak
💌 Call to Action
If you’re holding onto a piece—
unfinished, waiting—
You don’t have to rush it.
You don’t have to force it.
👉 You can take your time.
And when you’re ready—
you’ll finish it.
Because some mosaics…
aren’t just art.
👉 They’re love, still finding its place.