Grief Folk

I am Grief. I am not the end. I am the shape your love takes now that it has nowhere else to go.

Don't rush me away. If you try to outrun me, I will become a hollow ache that never leaves, a shadow in every sunlit room.

But sit with me. Let me be heavy. In my weight, we can honour what was real and true. I am just here to help you remember.

Grief's skin is the color of marzipan - soft, pale, and unexpectedly sweet. Because who said grief must be dark? One ponytail still tied. The other is gone, a space where something used to be.

The Inside Matters

Inside lie dandelion roots. Their bitterness teaches you to digest even what feels impossible.  Survivors of every crack, they are emblems of healing after loss. In folk magic, dandelions carry wishes to the departed - the roots hold you here while the seeds float upward.

Grief is also filled with soft, marzipan-coloured wool, a dense core that holds the sweetness of a memory.

And at the center, five amethyst stones offer their cool, steadying presence, a point of calm in the storm of remembrance.

Grief carries the scent of a sacred memory: the warm, reverent quiet of sandalwood, the earthy truth of patchouli, and a gentle whisper of soothing lavender.

And yes, Grief has a cute bum. Because even dead weight needs support.