If language falters, belongings steady us.

Antike Lampen und Porzellan-Teeservice auf einem Holztisch im Laden Trouvaillen am Münster – Symbol für Erinnerungsarbeit und kostbare Fundstücke vergangener Zeiten.

The Whisper of Things

A scarf that still carries her scent.
The cup he reached for every morning.
Photographs that hold an entire lifetime.

Memory lingers in the traces of daily life —
not as a rigid shadow,
but as a living thread that moves with us in quiet ways.

Sometimes it shimmers like a soap bubble.
Sometimes it hums like a cicada.
Often it is something you cannot name — only feel.

Gently Gathering What Remains

The Art of Memory means:
• gently gathering what carries meaning
• bringing order to what once felt lost
• shaping what stays close to the heart

It is a quiet act of love — and of self-care.

A Journal as a Vessel of Memory

Together we can create a remembrance book or grief journal—a place for everything you wish to keep close: his favorite meals, her favorite color, your cherished places and beloved phrases. The quirks a person leaves behind become quiet companions.

I can help you choose photographs, sculpt personal words, or weave in gentle rituals.
The result is a portrait of what remains — something visible and lasting, carrying you through time.

Perhaps the person who died collected something of their own: shells, buttons, postcards, screws.
Such small relics can also become part of my commissioned urn art: a fragment, a symbol, a piece of lived life embedded in a form that endures beyond the moment.

When my partner fell gravely ill, I began a large remembrance book for us — a spiral-bound album filled with traces of our shared life during the fourteen months between diagnosis and farewell: tickets, stickers, photographs of our outings.
Shortly before his death he wrote me a letter inside, which I discovered only after he was gone.

Afterwards I began to add signs that reminded me of him — rainbows that appeared so often we said he was sending them, even the score of our first Canasta game in our new house.
The book became a vessel that holds, tells, and keeps growing.

To remember is not to cling.
It is to carry what sustains — moving forward with the bond alive.

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