When I was 13, I spent the summer with my grandparents. On one uneventful day curiosity and boredom led me into their cellar. As I wandered among the remnants of my grandparents’ past, I stumbled upon huge sheets of glass. Intrigued, I asked my grandmother about them, and she directed me to my grandfather, a man who had dedicated his entire life to the medical field, yet whose passions beyond his career were not completely known to me… until that day.

We spent hours uncovering the treasures that had been tucked away: the glass, of course, but also the grinder, the glass cutters, and every tool one could need to begin. That summer marked the start of my lessons, and to my grandmother’s delight (or mild surprise), it also sparked a revival of my grandfather’s long-dormant love for stained glass.

From that day on, you could often find my grandfather heading down to his studio, immersed in creating keepsake boxes, candle holders, and mirrors. Each piece a labor of love, crafted to be given as a gift; a tangible reminder of his care and devotion.

This shared experience with my grandfather is one of the most precious memories I carry. Every time I step into my own studio, I am reminded of him and the love he poured into his work. His legacy of light has been passed down to me, and I hope to honor him through my art, my craft, and the teaching of others.