REBELLIOUS HOPE: A LOVE LETTER TO LISA, LIFE AND LIGHT

They say hope is a quiet thing. A flicker. A whisper.
But some people carry hope like a banner.
They wear it in their smile, they speak it through art, and they live it out loud—even in the face of pain.

They call it rebellious hope.

I’ve met that kind of hope. I’ve held it in handwritten notes and seen it sparkle in the eyes of the brave.

Her name was Lisa.

An art collector. A radiant soul. A woman who faced bowel and liver cancer with a grace that moved mountains and a light that refused to dim.

Lisa purchased my painting Let in the Light and placed it in the entrance of her home—not just as décor, but as a beacon. A promise to herself. She wrote:

“Too beautiful and meaningful to be stored… I will think of your golden, shimmering work of art washing me in its golden hue of health, healing, and light.”

She told me she’d printed out my words and attached them to the back of the painting—not because of its market value, but because of the love and meaning she felt radiating from it.
That’s the kind of woman she was.

Lisa was rebellious hope personified.

Even in the shadow of surgery, she chose beauty. She chose joy. She chose to believe in light.

In the midst of her cancer battle and fight to survive, Lisa took time to write the following to me:

“You have a way with words, just as you do with art. Beautifully written, just like your enticingly delicious art pieces.

I have placed “Let in the Light” in my front entrance, not its permanent resting place as we are still in the throes of completing our renovation, but too beautiful and meaningful to be stored alongside other art I have collected over the years, in a bedroom waiting to be resurrected upon a freshly painted wall.

I am in surgery on Monday, I will think of your golden, shimmering work of art awashing me in its golden hue of heath, healing and light.

I will print off your beautiful words and attach to them the back of Let in the Light; whether it skyrockets in value is not as important to me as the love and meaning you have put into all of the art you create.

Thank you again for sharing your happy place with us the other day.

Kind regards
Lisa

And now, though her body has returned to the earth, I like to believe her soul has returned to the stars.

She is stardust now—shining her love-light on us all.
A golden shimmer in the morning sun. A whisper in the hush between heartbeats.

She lives on in the light that dances across a canvas, in the warmth we feel when we stand before something truly beautiful and feel her there.

Like the late Dame Deborah James, whose spirit of rebellious hope reminded the world to laugh, love, and speak boldly about what matters, Lisa leaves behind her own quiet revolution: a reminder to greet life with open arms, to surround yourself with what lifts your soul, and to never underestimate the healing power of beauty.

This post is for everyone navigating the unknown. For the warriors, the dreamers, the weary hearts who still dare to hope.

Let us live rebelliously.

Let us love defiantly.

Let us remember that even in the face of death, light remains.

In loving memory of Lisa—forever radiant, forever light.