My grandmother and I lost contact ,whether deliberate or not, over the last ten years of her life. In the year before her unexpected passing, we reconnected through exchanged voicemails, her final words carrying both apology and love (I like to think). Through imagery of orange lilies, symbols of both devotion and resentment. I reconstruct her kitchen from cardboard and sculpt her likeness from clay, fragile recreations made entirely from memory. As her last voicemail plays, the film traces an imagined farewell, lingering in the space between absence, reconciliation, and the ache of unspoken words.