Yesterday marked three years since I last held my middle son, Xavier. He died when he was very young, only two weeks old. Three years. An impossible distance between my son and myself. There are rituals around this time of year. Things that I do to remember him, things to mark the hardest days of the year. His birthday. His anniversary. The memory days in between. Most of them revolve around crafting things for him. I firmly believe in the healing power of creativity and it’s ability to connect us to memory and loved ones lost.