Letters for theLong After
Art & letters for life after loss

For the long
after.

A year of letters and art for someone you love who is grieving. One envelope a month, opened whenever they’re ready.

Explore the first-year giftLook inside
An ivory letter, a moss-green envelope, and a botanical print with white flowers arranged on warm paper.
Illustration of a monthly mailing

When the condolence cards stop coming.

A way to keep showing up through the first year of loss.
Inside the envelope

A few quiet minutes
of their own.

They can read the letter at the kitchen table, tuck it away for another day, or keep the print somewhere they’ll see it often. The moment is theirs.

01A letter about grief

Candid words for experiences that can be hard to say out loud, from the strangeness of ordinary errands to the weight of a date on the calendar.

02A 4 × 6 art print

A print of a new original painting each month, chosen to give the eye somewhere to rest and the mind room to wander.

03An envelope worth opening

Beautiful paper and a carefully folded letter, made to feel as personal as the care behind the gift.

From a sample letter

“I wonder what small, ordinary thing you miss today. Those are sometimes the things that catch me most off guard.”

The first-year gift

Twelve letters.
One month at a time.

Give someone you love a year of mail through the first holidays, familiar routines, and milestones that can feel different after someone dies.

What happens after the twelfth letter?

The gift series ends. If the recipient wants more, they can choose to subscribe to the current monthly mailing.

The gift

The First Year

One envelope each month for twelve months, with a letter and a print in every mailing.

Give the First Year
After the first year

Keep Receiving Letters

Recipients who want to continue can join the ongoing series and receive the current letter and artwork each month.

The artwork

Art to Keep

Larger prints and select original paintings are envisioned as separate purchases.

A sample letter

The ordinary things

I wonder what small, ordinary thing you miss today. Those are sometimes the things that catch me most off guard.

There’s the thing you almost tell them because you know exactly how they’d laugh. Or the moment you hear a key in a door and, for half a second, your body remembers a life it still expects.

Some days, the thing I miss is just hearing someone say their name in the middle of an ordinary conversation. I wanted to make a little room for that here.