(for the 136th year of his passing)

My wife and I

came with open hearts

to your humble grave in Auvers—

a simple stone,

ivy climbing like a soft benediction,

silence holding your name

as gently as a wound.

We stood

in admiration

and grief—

because your colors

were never just colors.

They were longing,

they were loneliness,

they were prayers

you painted

to survive the ache

inside your chest.

Yellow—your hope

you could not hold.

Orange—your burning sorrow.

Stars—your grief

set trembling in the sky.

We felt

your missing love,

your depression,

your fierce attempt

to stay alive

by painting light

that kept slipping

from your hands.

After that visit,

my wife began painting in different way.

She rises at 5:30 each morning—

before the sun,

before the noise—

to paint her own prayer,

her own way

toward God.

Vincent,

you taught us

that suffering

can still burn with beauty,

that loneliness

can still be held

by the Creator,

that even a broken heart

can shine.

And so we honor you—

your naked soul,

your honest colors,

your courage

to create

from the ache.

We walk

toward your grave,

toward your light,

toward your God—

because you showed

that love,

even when missing,

can still become

a masterpiece.

— TaeHun Yoon, July 30, 2026