Melissa Lubke's four-year-old son used to beg his mother, "When you have a shower tomorrow can you not cry?"
The grieving widow could not make that promise for the bathroom had become her sanctuary after the sudden death of her husband Andrew in a motorbike accident in January 2016, not far from their Tasmanian home.
Andrew, the son of Hilda and Werner Lubke of Henty, had left behind a wife who was 12 weeks' pregnant, a property to manage and two other young boys to raise (the eldest with autism).
Her sadness and anxiety was bottled up as Melissa worked to keep her family fed, dressed and healthy ahead of the baby's birth and move from the farm.
When the tears couldn't come - "because the practical of the day seemed to replace the memories " - she induced them by washing her hair with Andrew's shampoo.
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"The familiar, comforting aroma filled the steamy air and my nostrils, remembering the feel of his hair on my skin," she recalls
"(In the bathroom) I could weep, pray, sing, slurp, wipe, praise, roam and yearn just as I was ... weak, vulnerable and naked."
Melissa, who forged a graphic design and media career in Sydney before moving to Tasmania to reconnect with her artistic passions and where she married Andrew, is finding new purpose in supporting community wellbeing programs.
She has merged her skills to create activities that help inspire communities to build healthy and healing relationships through art.
Melissa will return to Andrew's homeland to be part of the Henty Mental Health Grief and Loss Weekend from October 10 to 13.
She will bring with her an intimate art installation - a "grieving booth" called The Lachrymatory - that aims to help people work through grief and discover the healing power of crying.
Participants enter a curtained booth that lights up as they sit, rest and reflect and listen to soothing music and messages of hope through headphones.
They can then write a note and place the paper scroll into a hanging glass tear.
Small tissue packs discreetly provide contact numbers for counselling and mental health support services.
"Take your time, sit and reflect on any hurt ... it may be old and deep but wait, expect and cry if you need to," Melissa urges.
"Write on the scroll what's in your heart, let it out, knowing although you are in private you are actually not alone."
Melissa says her work is based on the fact our bodies are designed to cry.
Legends of tear bottles - or lachrymatory bottles - abound in stories of Egypt and middle Eastern societies, she adds.
"Tear bottles were prevalent in ancient Roman times when mourners filled small glass vials with tears and placed them in burial tombs as symbols of love and respect," she reveals.
Melissa's vision is to tour with her booth to other events and venues, collecting the nation's emotions in glass tears and finding a permanent home for this evocative art project.
For now it will be made available in the public spaces and places around Henty, including at the library from October 15 to 17 after the weekend's events.
"The final ceiling of tears would be a beautifully effective symbol of the healthy cries of our nation's heart," she promises.