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Kim, I made sure we recorded the first bird chirping in the kiln log. Don’t worry, your legacy, your knowledge, and your spirt will be passed down. Thinking about you often🤍🐦‍⬛
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Kim gave the best hugs. The kind that were so tight and long that they were almost to the point where I’d start to feel uncomfortable and want to pull away. I wouldn’t though. Usually I’d end up crying instead, letting her hold me and feel loved by her. I’ve never known someone to give better hugs than Kim. 

I loved Kim. She never failed to show up to my house, or the kiln, or a gathering of friends, with treats she had grown in her garden and transformed in her kitchen. She loved plants. She loved food. She loved her dogs. She loved her friends and family in Jamaica. She loved the summertime. She loved her home and community.

She loved her bangles: regardless of what kind of physical labour we’d be doing kiln side - hauling logs, or splitting and stacking wood, or running an angle grinder - you could guarantee she’d be there looking beautiful in her fancy earrings and necklaces. She was a star.

Kim was patient and gentle and kind. I never heard her speak ill of anyone. She was generous, and caring, and she made me want to be a better friend.

I am heartbroken for this loss; the unfairness of her short life, weighs heavy. Our community will miss her so damn much. 

I hope that wherever her soul is now, that she’s in the warm sun, listening to reggae tunes in her flip flops, with a little glass of wine in a nice cup. And I hope she’s feeling how deeply loved and missed she is. ❤️
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