In collaboration with Christine “Tina” Fitzwater and her children, Home Is Where They Love You is a 7-layered mixed media piece created to commemorate Tina’s life. It serves as a reminder to her seven children and husband that home isn’t just a place—it’s something you carry with you wherever love exists.

Tina was diagnosed with cancer in late August 2024. Determined to fight, she began chemotherapy shortly after. For a time, we were under the impression that the chemotherapy was working and the cancer was shrinking. But by December, her symptoms worsened, leading her oncologist to recommend emergency surgery to remove a melon-sized mass on her ovaries and cancer lining her stomach.

By some miracle, Tina survived the December 23rd surgery, but her surgeon delivered the devastating news that “her cancer was the worst [he had] ever seen in over 20 years as a doctor” and then told us she had only days to live.

A couple of days after the surgery, once it began to sink in that Tina was going to pass, I asked her to collaborate with me on a piece of art. I wanted her handwriting to be a part of it, so I asked her to write two phrases for me: “Home is where they love you” in print and “I love you” in cursive. It was important to me that this piece carried her voice, her love, and a part of her for her family to keep forever.

Over the next few days, Tina held on for our family. The doctors and nurses kept her comfortable with pain medication. At times, her spirit and demeanor made it hard to believe she was nearing the end. Surrounded by love, prayers, and positive messages, we almost convinced ourselves that a miracle might still happen.

My wife, Alyssa, and I visited her daily with our morning coffees and whatever snacks or drinks she’d requested the day before. Some days we stayed for hours, returning later to be with her again. We cried, laughed, and reminisced. Every few days, I’d ask her if she felt like she was passing, and each time, she said no.

On New Year’s Day, we brought her a newly discovered favorite drink I had bought for her on a whim at a health food store in town. It was an orange-flavored health soda called Slice. As she sipped the orange soda from her little white straw, she told us she had been dreaming the night before about “going home.” When we asked what she meant, she described her childhood home, several other places she’d lived, and finally the house where all her children had once lived under one roof.

“How does that feel?” I asked. “…going home.”


“It feels like I’m just going home,” she said softly. “And I’m ready.”

That evening, after dinner with some of the younger kids, her husband, and their grandma, Alyssa and I decided to visit her again. I wanted to show her the finished art piece featuring her handwriting and her children’s drawings. We’d gone out of our way to find more of her favorite Slice soda that seemed to be sold out at the store we had been going to, and she was thrilled when we handed her a new flavor—grape.

Her face lit up when I showed her the painting. She stared at it for a long time, repeating how much she loved it and how cool it was. When Alyssa asked what she loved most about it, Tina smiled and said, “That it’s part of all of us.”

Making art is usually something I do for myself—to process, to feel, to create. But this piece was for Tina and her family. Seeing her light up, hearing her say how much it meant to her, was one of the greatest honors of my life.

We left the painting in her room that night, propped across from her bed so she could see it. I caught her glancing at it a few more times before we said goodnight. 

As we started to leave, we did our typical, “so what do you want us to bring you tomorrow?” She then gasped as she said, “I know what I want! I want Sushi Deli!” 

Alyssa and I exchanged a knowing look. Sushi Deli, in San Diego, was far from the Dallas hospital we were standing in, but Alyssa said, “You got it, Tina. We’ll bring you some Sushi Deli.”

“Happy New Year,” I said to her as I closed the door. Alyssa and I quietly walked to the parking garage where we then sobbed in the front seats of our vehicle, knowing Sushi Deli would be her first meal in heaven.

Tina passed peacefully in the early hours of January 2, 2025. I take comfort in knowing she left this world with grape Slice in her belly and a newly painted canvas perched up for her to see across from her bed.

Home isn't a place you go. It's a feeling you feel. Home is where they love you, and Tina was home for all of us.

Rest in peace, big sis.




Christine Suzanne Fitzwater


May 26, 1980 – January 2, 2025



The proceeds from all the prints sold of "Home Is Where They Love You" go directly to Tina’s family. Thank you for all of your love and support.



This is a 12" x 18" print.

• Paper thickness: 10.3 mil

• Paper weight: 189 g/m²

• Opacity: 94%

• ISO brightness: 104%

• Paper is sourced from Japan



This product is made especially for you as soon as you place an order, which is why it takes us a bit longer to deliver it to you. Making products on demand instead of in bulk helps reduce overproduction, so thank you for making thoughtful purchasing decisions.