Celtic.Aine.Maire

6/14: What was meant to be a piece became a Pantheon. The veil tore and the guardians walked in, as if they own the place. Now the altar won’t stop glowing... stay tuned.



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6/10: Seven years ago today, my world tilted sideways and never quite righted itself.

June 10th: the day I found my brother, Maurice (aka Moe), on his bedroom floor. He was already halfway between here and whatever waits for us. A massive stroke at 49. Six days later, he crossed the Great Divide; Father’s Day, 2019.

Moe was more than my brother; he was my portal. He opened the door to the Alt/Goth world for me: the music the club scene; where the nights are soaked in eyeliner... and distortion.

My wasn’t discovered; it was bestowed, a gift he placed in my hands long before I ever understood what “subculture” meant. Moe handed me a mixed cocktail made from Siouxsie Sioux’s shadow‑glam and Wendy O’s feral defiance. Too young? Absolutely. Regret it? Not even a little.

Tonight I’m thinking about the ones who crossed before me; the guardians, the shadows, the soft‑furred saints.

If the Rainbow Bridge had visiting hours, I’d walk that path with my OrangeFloof and find Onyx, Sophie, Butch, and Femme waiting in the glow. A reunion stitched from memory and magic.

On World Pet Memorial Day, I honor them. Say their names. Keep their stories alive.