When Grief Makes Me Create

The day after my 15-year-old Pekingese, Presley, died, I went to Hobby Lobby.

I was heartbroken, and somewhere in the middle of that heartbreak, I had an urge to create. My grief was so heavy. I swear I felt it in my legs as I walked through the parking lot. Each step felt like I was lifting a concrete block. Slow and steady, I put one foot in front of the other.

Usually, I would’ve worn oversized sunglasses, even though it was overcast that day, but I didn’t. My sadness was the kind you couldn’t hide behind anything. I walked through the aisles pushing a shopping cart and crying. I didn’t care who saw me. My germaphobe ass even wiped my eyes with my hands after holding on to the shopping cart.

It was November 2024. I bought materials for a Christmas mantel, and what I made looked different from anything I had done before. Something about the colors, the arrangement, and the whole feel of it took me in a new direction.

At the time, I didn’t think much about the connection. I was sad. I wanted to make something. So, I did.

Presley's Mantle

Then, two weeks ago, my husband’s lifelong close friend died unexpectedly. And just a few weeks before that, the world lost Dolly Parton. I lost Dolly Parton.

I didn’t know his friend personally, but watching Will experience that sadness affected me deeply. I’m an empath. When someone I love is hurting, I feel it, too.

The day after Will learned that his friend had died, I felt a familiar urge. This time, I wanted to create a Halloween mantel. I have never decorated a mantel for Halloween. But suddenly, I wanted to try something I had never done before. A couple of hours later, I found myself at Hobby Lobby, and I thought about Presley and that tearful trip I took there nearly two years ago.

Apparently, when loss touches my life, something in me wants to create.

Halloween Mantle 2026

I got curious enough to see whether anyone had studied this connection. It turns out they have. A small study of eight professional artists explored how losing a loved one influenced their art. The findings suggested that creating could help them understand and find meaning in their grief.

That doesn’t explain exactly why I reach for decorations after a loss. But it gave me something to consider.

Maybe creating gives my feelings somewhere to go.

Something about choosing materials, working with my hands, and watching an idea take shape draws me in. I can be sad and still feel curious about what I’m making. Those feelings can exist together.

I hadn’t really recognized that until now.

Looking at these two mantels, I remember what was happening in my life when I made them. One brings me back to losing Presley. The other brings me back to seeing someone I love hurt, wishing I could ease his sadness, and wanting to know the answer to the mysterious question “Why did this happen?”

I’m still figuring out what this means for me. But I’m beginning to think making something is one way I respond when I don’t know what to do with what I feel. I’m also realizing how tricky grief is.

Have you ever noticed yourself doing something unexpected after a loss? Maybe you cook, garden, write, rearrange a room, or feel drawn to something you’ve never tried.

I’d love to hear about it. What do you reach for when your heart is heavy?