RAINWATCHER
A mural for the grief we carry with us
These are not my tears
Just the dew that lingers here
Across the streets where you lie
In the garden among other fathers
Who kept their daughters better than I
— JiM VUE —
written for his daughter Ghia Nah
Grief has always been present in the stories and relationship developed at In Progress. Over time, we found a solemnity of sorrow in carrying with grief until we experienced the passing of one of our youngest artist - Ghia Nah Vue. Ghia was a force of love and curiosity. She sought to make new friends at every turn and ran through our halls introducing herself to others and then introducing them to others. At her young age she built community as she brought a new definition of belonging to those who had the privilege of knowing her.
On June 4, 2017 our relationship to grief changed dramatically. It became sobering in a way many of us had not quite experienced, and since that time, our grief has resonated throughout almost everything we do. Over the years, we have sought to confront our grief with Ghia by creating a garden, tended by family and loved ones. We have also been moved by the collective grief that comes to us through acknowledging the many people that are a part of our In Progress community. The result is a mural that honors the grief we carry for those no longer living within this world.
OUR JOURNEY OF CREATION
In 2022, the process of creating the Rainwatcher Mural began.
Muralist Xee Reiter joined parents Sai Thao and Jim Vue in a series of conversations—asking how grief, so often carried in silence, might be expressed visually and shared communally. The mural would come wrapped around a garden, built and tended to by Sai and Jim’s love of their daughter Ghia Nah Vue.
What followed was four years of tears, reflection, revision, and return. This mural is the result—not only an offering to Ghia and her family, but to all the artists, families, and spirits who walk with grief at In Progress.
While many stories informed its creation, several are reflected directly in the mural. These stories follow below, woven into the elements and symbols that shape The Rainwatcher Mural:
Ash and Fire
The mural begins with a bright flame— an acknowledgment of a love that has journeyed on.
In October 2022, Mainou Vue ended her life at the age of 25. She had grown up at In Progress. Once filled with joy, her life became spent by sorrow. Her passing devastated her family.
We remember her father standing alone, burning ceremonial papers—an offering to his daughter, sent through fire. And as the flame burns, you realize that the one you love so deeply is now gone.
Undercurrent
Grief starts out slow and quiet - rumbling beneath unseen. Then becomes suffocating, emerging towards the surface.
In May 2021, Lily Heng died suddenly. Her longtime partner, Lupe, was thrown into a deep and lasting depression. The undercurrent represents this silent, consuming sorrow—a force that drags the grieving inward, demanding a fight for every breath, every inch toward light.
New Creation
Through our tears, life emerges…
Ghia Nah Vue came into this world as “Rainwatcher”, and returned to water when she left in 2017. For those who knew her, her presence is felt in every raindrop, every storm cloud, every rushing stream. Where water flows—her love is in motion, ever-renewing.
Running With the Ancestors
Free from time and space our ancestors remain with us.
As we run with memories, we are accompanied by the ones who came before
As we dream of what was and will be, they hold us in our sleep
— In movement, we remember.
— In grief, we are never alone.
The Boy Upon the Rock
A real boy of vigilance stands firmly from head to toe. In his hands, rests the protector, a knife that is always steadfast. On his back, a moon’s reflection shields him from the storm. He represents Ghia’s siblings, Thee, Ty and Dhoua, who’s hearts have hollowed, but not hardened in grief.
In 2018, Analisa Dominique Leal passed away while celebrating her engagement. She was the beloved younger sister of Tomas Leal. Her brothers and sisters still wonder what might have been. Through the real boy, we honor Analisa—and all siblings navigating loss with courage.
The Rock That Is the Foundation
In the flow of water, motion carries Ghia’s return to our memory. The water breaks itself upon the rock, steady and strong like the father who holds the ground so the son can rise.
Fathers are so often unseen. A quiet presence, anchoring the family through storms, holding space for grief. These are the ones who stay. So others are never alone when time comes to face the storm.
Still Waters
— like still waters, memory lingers quiet, deep, and full of echoes
In November 2020, Josalyn Jones died of COVID— alone, on a respirator, separated from her family. She left behind three daughters, a twin sister, and a large extended family. For Jacy, her twin, the loss was a breaking of the self. Jacy now raises her sister’s daughters alongside her own— one family, bonded by love and redefined by grief. In her daily life, she still feels the reflection of her sister beside her: familiar and yet changed.
Resonance
In grief, the questions we ask--and the silence we receive—haunt the quiet moments. These questions reverberate throughout the emptiness until it hits an unspoken truth and answers us in the unlikeliest forms. A rustle of leaves on a fall day, the shimmer of light off freshly fallen snow, the puddle slowly gathering from spring rain, or the scorch of the summer sun on your back. We continue, but our loved ones who died do not. Resonance is the haunting silence followed by the profundity of life.
Resonance is the vibration between the living and the departed
— a crackle of wood burning in the fire,
— a ripple of waves flowing to shore,
— a child’s laughter after wiping their tears
MediCIne
On October 22, 2021, Nevaeh Kingbird went missing.
She was 15 years old. Her family still holds hope.
Nevaeh’s Ojibwe name is Giizhikaandagookwe—Cedar Woman.
Her presence in the mural is carried through the cedar tree,
a sacred medicine in Ojibwe tradition.
Cedar soothes the throat, calms fevers, loosens joints so we can move.
It brings healing in times of stillness, strength in moments of waiting.
Cedar roots itself in stone— growing where nothing else dares.
Nevaeh is present not through loss, but through possibility.
She is a symbol of resilience, of medicine,
and of the hope that grows deep, even in the hardest places.
in DEDICATion TO the following
Gordy Adams Sr.
Shyne Barrett
Tony Basta
Terry Belgarde
Adam Brown
Curtis Buckanaga Sr.
Doug Buckanaga
Thia Cha
Tharon “Prince” Chambers
Nadine Chase
Carrie Estey
Elaine Fleming Jr.
Linda Fuentes
Wastewin Gonzalez
Gene Goodsky
Lucy Goodwin
Amber Gross
Jamie Headbird
Stacy Hill
Debbie Jackson
Lucille Jones
Josalyn Jones
Don Kingbird
Nevaeh Kingbird
Shirley LaDuke
Analisa Leal
Oscar Leal Sr.
Michael Morris
Jon Prentice
Gabriella Puentes
Rachel Sam
Shawanna Scott
Nicole Stevens
Larry Stillday
Tommy Stillday
Mee Thao
Shong Ying Thao
Murphy Thomas
Harvey Thompson
Sarina Vang
Ghia Nah Vue
Mainou Vue
Yang Vue
Keng Wilson
Boua Tang Yang
Where our memories Ghia Nah began this mural journey, there were countless other stories of grief, loss and remembrance that brought us to the full mural. Every image, every stroke of paint contains a story and emotion.
Xee reiter - muralist
To be an artist anywhere, you have to embrace your surroundings and take in the observational truth. The art that I create is reflective of my Hmong roots but is also encompassing of the people, the community and the cultures of where I live. In the last twenty years of calling Minnesota my home, I am grateful that I’ve had the opportunity to tell stories through my art via murals, park signs and publications. In quieter times, I love capturing nature, recipes and drawing studies in my sketchbook. Sometimes I think of it as visual record keeping but it’s also empowering when others can connect with it and that’s the beauty of art.
- Xee Reiter, Visual Artist
Rainwatcher is a mural made of stories
—some spoken, some silent—
It honors the ones we’ve lost,
the ones still searching,
and the ones who remain.
It is a prayer in paint.
A space for memory.
And a light that continues to shine.
this project was privately gifted with love to all who have carried the stories of our fellow artists and story givers / . circa 2025