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In offering condolences, we may begin, “There are no words.” How true this was for me. My son's death required expression. Stitching vintage textiles to make words out of negative space conveys the many-layered, messy, never-ending task as I deal with an irreplaceable and devastating loss and the complexity of my grief. The words on this quilt are difficult to see due to the lack of contrast and the wavy texture surrounding them, forcing others to struggle to grasp for words just as I do.