I (31F) am a sculptor. I specialize in hyperrealistic pieces, mostly working with clay and bronze, and I’ve done commissions for everything from memorials to art installations. Art has always been my outlet — especially after my dad passed away five years ago. He was my biggest supporter. Encouraged me to go to art school when no one else did. When he got sick, I moved back home and took care of him during his last year.

After he passed, I poured my grief into a life-size sculpture of him — not commissioned, not for sale. Just something for me. It took eight months. I worked from photographs, old videos, even his clothing. When I finished it, it was almost unnervingly real. It captured everything — his posture, his gentle hands, even the way he used to tilt his head when he listened.

I kept it in my private studio, which is on the same property as my family’s home (converted garage). My mother (58F) knew about it. I let her see it once. She broke down crying, and I told her it was staying with me — that it was mine, not a family heirloom, not a shared piece. It was how I was grieving. She said she understood.

A few months later, I went to a weekend art retreat. When I came back… the sculpture was gone.

I panicked, thinking it was stolen. Turns out, my mother moved it — without telling me — and put it in the front room of the house, like a centerpiece. She invited people over to see it, like it was a display piece. She even put a spotlight on it. When I confronted her, she said she “couldn’t keep it hidden anymore” and that it “wasn’t fair to keep something so beautiful to myself.” She said it helped her feel closer to him.

I lost it. I told her she had no right. That it wasn’t about showing off grief, it was about processing it privately. I took the sculpture back — it was slightly damaged from being moved — and locked the studio.

After that, we didn’t speak for a while.

Recently, my mom asked me to make another sculpture of my dad. This time, she wants it “smiling, holding a guitar, looking like how he did in his 30s.” She said she wants it for a memorial garden she’s creating. I told her no. That I already made one. That I don’t want to re-open that wound. That I don’t trust what she’ll do with it.

She cried. Said I’m “denying the family a legacy” and being cruel. My aunts and cousins got involved — some say I’m being disrespectful to my mom’s grief, that I should “get over” what happened with the first sculpture. Others say I gave everything I had already, and she’s crossing a line.

I still refuse. I haven’t picked up clay since that piece. And I don’t know if I’m being selfish… or protecting myself