Rosie’s Story — Love Doesn’t Disappear, It Changes Shape
This wasn’t a replacement. It was a way to keep that gaze close.
This wasn’t a replacement. It was a way to keep that gaze close.
After she was gone, what Grace missed most wasn’t the noise—it was the look.
That steady, wide-eyed way she’d meet you in the room, like she was checking in.
Grace wanted something small enough to live in everyday life, but specific enough to feel true: the green eyes, the tabby markings, the calm attention that made home feel occupied.
We built the piece around her strongest “recognition anchors”:
We worked slowly, checking symmetry and proportions from multiple angles—because with a face this expressive, a tiny shift can change the whole feeling.
In the end, it wasn’t about making something “perfect.”
It was about making something recognizable—the kind of piece you can pass by on a shelf and feel, for a second, like she’s still looking up at you.
Quiet. Close. Still part of the room.