My grief is magnified around the holidays.

This was our last Thanksgiving with my sweet mom. I was 16 and really into documenting everything, which now, I’m really glad I did. I would give anything and everything to be able to look over her shoulder again and watch her cook.

I was 15 when I heard my first Coldplay song. A couple of friends were raving about them, and the first song they played was “Fix You”. Of course I wanted to hear more, so for Christmas that year my mom bought me all of their albums.

I see my mother in front of me. Holding my face in her hands. Her hazel eyes staring into mine. “Sing with me, Frankie…”

I’ve never felt “healed” of my struggle with mental health, and I can’t help but think there’s more to be asking of God than “take this away.”

I think listening to a band that iconic made me want to create music that spoke deeply to others the way the Beatles did to me. It wasn’t just the words. It was the carefully crafted melodies that took me on a journey with every song. Every note felt so intentional - like it fulfilled its purpose by the end.