Why Tori’s Mosaic Stayed Ungrouted (Until Now)
Some mosaics take longer than others—not because of the design, but because of the weight of what they mean.
Tori’s mosaic has lived on my chimney for over a year, unfinished and ungrouted, because I wasn’t ready to let go.
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The Hardest Goodbye
Tori wasn’t just a cat.
She was my baby, my best friend, and part of my family.
We went through life together—pregnant at the same time, raising our little ones side by side.
She’d give me head boops when I was unwell, lead me to bed when I needed rest, and follow me with the dogs like she owned the town.
One day she even brought a baby guinea pig inside—perfectly safe, just to show me.
She didn’t want to give birth without me holding her paw. That was Tori—sweet, clever, and always tuned in to me.
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Drawing Her Before Goodbye
The last sketch I did of her was drawn just weeks before she got sick.
She was sitting on the couch, looking out the glass doors, pretending to ignore me—but her ear was turned back, listening.
That moment became the mosaic on the chimney.
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Why I Couldn’t Grout Her (At First)
She died on the 6th of the 6th, 2024—and if you know me, you know I love the irony of patterns like that.
I love black cats, the number 13, and strange little details like 6-6-6 (2+4=6).
But this one hit different. It wasn’t funny—it was heartbreaking.
I couldn’t mosaic after she died.
I finished her piece, installed it, and then stopped creating completely.
I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
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Finally Grouting Her Mosaic
This year, I finally took the step.
I grouted Tori’s mosaic, filming the process, giving her gentle pats as I worked—just like I would have in real life.
I cried the whole time.
She’s grouted now. There are still some small repairs left, but the hardest part is done.
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What This Mosaic Means
Grouting her piece wasn’t just about finishing the art—it was about cementing her place in our lives, literally and emotionally.
It’s not just tiles and glue—it’s her memory, her love, and her story, sealed into the wall, just like she’s sealed into my heart.
Even at the end, when she was weak and sitting by the heater, she purred until the very last moment.
She loved me that much. And I loved her back.
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Final Thoughts: Some Pieces Take Time
Some mosaics you finish straight away.
Others take time because you’re not just working with materials—you’re working with grief.
That’s why Tori’s piece stayed ungrouted for so long. And that’s why, when I finally did it, it felt like both an ending and a beginning.
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Want to Follow More Mosaic Stories?
I share the real, raw side of mosaicing here—not just the art, but the lives and memories behind the pieces.
Follow along or reach out if you’d like a mosaic that tells your story too.