From the beginning of Walt's Waltz, I thought I would write these moments down.

 

Oh, this work....

 

From the beginning of Walt's Waltz, I thought I would write these moments down.

As a language arts teacher, I often told my students about the diary I started in sixth grade. It was a little yellow-gold vinyl diary with flowers on the cover, a padded cover, and a tiny lock and key. I kept it hidden under my bed, convinced one of my siblings would find it and read my deepest thoughts. I even drew an eye inside the cover with a note warning that it was watching them, followed by a heartfelt plea asking them not to read another word.

 

I still have that little diary tucked away.

 

Sometimes I would read my students a few of those innocent entries and remind them how little time journaling really takes. Just a few minutes at the end of the day, after some morning reflection, or even choosing one day each week and making it a habit. It didn't have to be long. If you were tired, write a few sentences. The important thing was simply to begin. 

 

Looking back, I wish I had followed my own advice.

 

Throughout my life, I would start and stop. I wrote poetry. For a while, I kept a journal through photographs, but I never consistently captured the ordinary moments that become the memories we treasure.

 

Now, as I approach seven years without Walt, I wish I had written down more of those everyday moments. Sometimes I wonder if any of my students followed my advice better than I did.

 

 

 

One thing I always told my students was that you can always start again. If you miss a day, begin again. If you make a mistake, learn from it and try again. Even patchwork pieces of your thoughts can become a beautiful quilt that tells the story of your life.

 

So here I am...starting again.

 

If you've met me, you might smile at the thought that I could ever be at a loss for words. I tend to ramble when I talk about our work. My mind sometimes chooses its own path. I may begin talking about "Take Your Mental Health Temperature" and somehow end up somewhere completely different.

 

Sometimes I catch myself and find my way back. Other times, I stop and ask, "Oh my goodness...where was I?"

 

If you've heard me speak, you've probably watched me start telling a story somewhere in the middle, somehow assuming everyone already knows what I am talking about.

 

When Walt was with me, he would just smile.

 

"Context, Mom...context."

 

If I started apologizing for getting off track, he would smile again and say, "Well, if you think about it, the middle of the story is the best part."

 

I've thought about those words a lot over the years.

 

Maybe Walt was right. The middle of the story is where so much of life happens. It is where we learn, struggle, grow, make mistakes, and find the courage to begin again.

 

If you know me, you know I have always tried to find some sort of balance. Lately, I have had to be more intentional about that. As Walt's Waltz has grown, so has the work. I am grateful for every opportunity we have been given, but we are still a small organization growing one step at a time. We continue writing grants and seeking support that will allow us to add another full-time team member. We are not there yet.

 

Over the years, I have poured my heart, time, and energy into building this organization. There have been many long days and moments when I have had to remind myself that the same care we encourage others to practice is something I need to practice too. Self-care has not always come easily for me. If my self-care were a quilt, there would be some strong patches and some places that still need mending.

 

This work has been a labor of love from the beginning. I have wanted to honor Walt by carrying forward the qualities he showed so beautifully: compassion, fairness, kindness, and a belief that every person deserves to be seen and supported. I have tried, I have made mistakes, I have learned, and I have tried again.

 

Will has often been the gentle reminder that even those who encourage others to care for their mental health must remember to care for their own.

 

This is not a confession. It is a reminder that leadership requires humility, reflection, and a willingness to keep growing. We need leaders who do not just talk about mental health and wellness, but who strive to live it.

 

At 65, I think more intentionally about the future of Walt's Waltz. I do not have dreams of retirement. This work is part of who I am. But I also know that this mission is bigger than any one person. Building a sustainable organization means creating strong systems, developing future leaders, and ensuring Walt's Waltz continues for years to come.

 

Succession planning is not about stepping away. It is about being responsible stewards of something that belongs to all of us.

 

 

 

One of the greatest lessons I have learned through Walt's Waltz is that movements are built through people who believe in an idea before they can see what it will become.

 

I had just left my therapist's office and entered my car. My keys were still in my hand, not yet in the ignition, when my phone rang. It was Kim Fabian returning my call.

 

I remember feeling both excited and nervous as I answered. I had reached out because I was hoping to have an art exhibition connected to Walt's story. I also gathered the courage to share an idea I had been carrying: What if organizations committed to becoming Walt's Waltz Stigma-Free Environments?

 

At the time, Kim was the Executive Director of Greenville Center for Creative Arts. Kim and I talked for over an hour about what this idea could become. What if people knew they could walk through a door and feel accepted, supported, and free from judgment?

 

Kim believed in that idea.

 

 

After that call, we knew this conversation had become something much bigger than an art exhibition. On November 6, 2020, during First Friday, Greenville Center for Creative Arts became the first Walt's Waltz Stigma-Free Zone.

 

At the time, we used the term Stigma-Free Zone. As our vision grew, we realized that “environment” better reflected what we hoped to create. We were not simply talking about a place. We were talking about a culture of compassion, understanding, and belonging.

 

It was an evening I will never forget.

 

Because we were still navigating COVID, Glenis Redmond was unable to be there in person, but she graciously shared her beautiful poetry through a video. Even from a distance, her words became part of an evening filled with compassion, reflection, and hope.

 

Lana Guy, a musician Walt and I had taught, performed a song I had written. While Walt was attending Clemson University, he helped me revise the lyrics and strengthen the melody. After he died, I gave the song to Lana and told her to make it her own. She changed the melody to 3/4 time, making it a true waltz.

 

The gray loft at Greenville Center for Creative Arts was filled with people celebrating an idea that was still so new. None of us knew where Walt's Waltz would lead. We were simply doing the best we could, one day at a time.

 

 

 

 

Artist Nick Burns, known to many as Ninja Picasso, contacted me after reading the first article published following Walt's death. He asked if he could paint a portrait of Walt. Nick had been a Brandon Fellow at Greenville Center for Creative Arts the year before. He told me he did not usually paint portraits, so not to expect too much. He simply felt called to paint Walt.

 

My son, Will, photographed the process to document what was happening. It all moved so quickly. Just two and a half days later, the 8-foot by 8-foot oil portrait was finished.

 

As I was driving to Nick's home studio, Will called.

 

"Mom, you really need to prepare yourself. I had to step outside. It looks just like Walt."

 

When I arrived, I met Nick for the first time in person. There was something gentle and humble about him. We quietly walked toward the portrait together.

 

The moment I saw it, my knees nearly gave way.

Nick caught me and held me as I cried.

 

Will was right. It was not just the remarkable likeness of Walt. It was a person I had never met who had spent weeks studying my son's face and creating something that allowed me to feel close to him again. Nick's kindness and compassion carried me through a moment I will never forget.

 

I tried to pay him, but he simply shook his head. Then and today, Nick says this is his greatest work. He originally called the portrait "Walt," but after hearing me describe one of Walt's nicknames, "the gentle giant," the title of the piece changed.

 

I have never forgotten Nick's generosity or the gift he shared with all of us.

 

 

 

 

 

Nick's portrait was part of that first First Friday event at Greenville Center for Creative Arts on November 6, 2020, when GCCA became the first Walt's Waltz Stigma-Free Environment.

 

Premier Arts Collective Executive Director Gene Krcelic saw Nick's artwork that evening and was captivated by the piece. His appreciation for Nick's work helped create another opportunity for the portrait to share Walt's story. In 2024, the portrait was displayed for six months at the Bank of America Building at Camperdown Falls.

 

The portrait was installed on Walt's birthday, May 6, and the lobby remained open later during Artisphere so more people could experience Walt's story. Two smaller metal replica panels created from Nick's artwork also gave visitors another way to connect with the piece.

 

Over the years, Nick's portrait has continued to find places where people can encounter Walt's story. It is currently displayed in the window of the Spartanburg Art Museum for all to see.

 

What began as an act of compassion and a calling became another thread in the story of Walt's Waltz. A painting created out of compassion has continued to open conversations, invite reflection, and remind people of the importance of seeing and caring for one another.

 

 

Since we began, Walt's Waltz has operated out of my home. I have always tried to be a careful steward of every resource entrusted to us. Our two-car garage became storage. The shed filled with supplies. Even my foyer became part office, part warehouse.

 

We always believed the most important thing was not having a perfect space. It was making sure we could bring our programs to the people who needed them. We will continue going where we are invited, into schools, libraries, healthcare systems, churches, businesses, and community organizations. Meeting people where they are has always been at the heart of Walt's Waltz.

 

But as Walt's Waltz continued to grow, our needs grew too. Our volunteers, community partners, and in-person social work interns needed a place where we could gather, work, learn, and create together. The time had come for us to have a place of our own.

 

I have to admit, I was anxious about the move. After so many years of working from home, first as an online teacher and then building Walt's Waltz, stepping into a new space felt like a big change. I had become comfortable with my routine, even when that routine meant many long hours working alone.

 

I wasn't sure we were ready, but Will kept encouraging me, along with our board and others in the mental health and nonprofit fields who helped me see that this was the next step. If you've ever met Will, you know his quiet determination. He has a way of seeing possibilities when I am still trying to figure out the next step.

They reminded me that this space was not just about having an office. It was about creating a place where our volunteers, interns, partners, and community could gather, collaborate, and continue building this movement together. It was also a reminder that caring for this mission means caring for myself too.

On July 21, we signed the lease for our first office.

 

You can now find us at 850 South Pleasantburg Drive, Suite 202, Greenville, SC 29607, where we share space with Just Say Something and Compass of the Carolinas. We are grateful to be surrounded by organizations and people who believe in creating compassionate communities.

 

What I did not expect was how much this new space would impact me personally. When I walked through the doors, I was immediately welcomed. People introduced themselves, checked on us, stopped by to see how we were settling in, and made us feel like we belonged.

 

Their kindness reminded me of something I have talked about so many times through Walt's Waltz. Human connection matters. The conversations we have about loneliness are not just concepts. They are real. We all need belonging, encouragement, and the simple feeling of knowing someone is glad you are there.

 

I know everyone's experience is different, but I also know I had been missing this more than I realized. After years of working from home, often at my dining room table or in my home office, having a place where I can connect with others has been an unexpected gift. My dining room table is not completely cleared yet, and I still have work to do, but we are moving in the right direction.

 

One of the greatest gifts of this new space has been welcoming our in-person social work interns. Their compassion, energy, and willingness to learn have brought so much encouragement to our work. The support of our grant partners, volunteers, donors, board members, and community partners has helped sustain Walt's Waltz as we continue building a stronger foundation for the future.

The office is still a work in progress. There are boxes to unpack, supplies to organize, and walls waiting for artwork. But every day it looks a little more like Walt's Waltz.

 

For the first time since Walt's Waltz began, we have a place of our own.

It feels like home.

 

 

These next steps feel like such a gift. They are also reminders of what is possible when people believe in this mission.

 

Just a few days after moving into our new space, we held our very first Painting Mental Health Workshop in Spanish with our wonderful bilingual presenter and community outreach partner, Johanna. Seeing this program expand into another language and reach more members of our community was a moment I will never forget.

 

Tomorrow, Johanna and I will make the three-hour drive to provide mental health education, watercolor supplies, and wellness strategies to a group of migrant workers. Many of these individuals are far from their families and face the loneliness and challenges that come with being separated from the people they love. We are honored to spend time with them and remind them that their mental health matters too.

 

We have also been blessed with someone helping us with grant writing, another important step as we continue building a stronger foundation for Walt's Waltz. These are not luxuries. These are the supports that allow a growing organization to continue moving forward.

 

I often think about what Walt would see in these moments. I believe he would see these steps as leaps forward. He would see the compassion of the people who have joined this journey, the partnerships that continue to grow, and the lives touched because so many people have chosen to care.

 

Will continues to be such an important part of this journey. His advice, encouragement, and steady presence have helped me through moments when I was unsure of the next step.

 

As we enter August, a month that always carries deep meaning for our family, I find myself reflecting on how far we have come. August 22, 2019, changed our lives forever. Yet here we are.

 

We are still here.

 

Not because of one person, but because of a community that has continued to believe in this mission.

 

 

As I look to the future, I want Walt’s Waltz to outlast me. I do not say that because I am ready to walk away. This work is part of who I am, and I cannot imagine a life where I am not sharing Walt's message of compassion, hope, and mental health awareness.

 

But I also know that a mission this important cannot depend on one person. Building a future for Walt's Waltz means continuing to grow a team, developing future leaders, creating strong systems, and making sure this movement can continue for years to come.

 

None of this would have happened without you.

 

Every volunteer, donor, partner, board member, intern, grant supporter, and friend who has believed in Walt's Waltz has helped carry this mission forward. Every Painting Mental Health Workshop, every conversation started, and every person reminded that they matter has happened because people chose to stand beside us.

 

As we approach another August 22, we remember the day our lives changed forever. We also remember why we began. Walt believed in kindness, fairness, compassion, and making sure people were not left to struggle alone.

Because of you, Walt's story continues.

 

As we look toward the future, we know we cannot do this alone. We need a community that believes in this mission and wants to help ensure Walt's Waltz continues to grow. Whether by volunteering, sharing our programs, connecting us with opportunities, or supporting this work financially, every act of support helps us continue moving forward.

 

Thank you for walking beside us, believing in this mission, and helping us carry Walt's legacy forward.

 

Two days after Walt's death, Will said, "Mom, we will start a movement. If we save one life..."

 

Those words became our promise.

 

Together, we will continue building a world where mental health is valued, stigma is reduced, and no one has to walk through life's difficult moments alone.