While I was on lockdown in Scotland, my father got sick and later passed away in Mexico. Being so far away and unable to travel, I went into a complete state of shock that numbed me. The following days I focused on having breakfast as a ritual of survival. I documented every breakfast during the next eight days as a way to make sense of his death. This work represents two journeys: The process of realising I have forever lost my father and the offering of love and compassion to myself. Making breakfast was a way to remind me I was still alive. And that the pain I was experiencing was love, in its more chaotic and wounded form. But love, anyways. Pouring my drawings and words every morning on paper allowed grief to come to me, opened my heart, and changed me forever.