It happened years ago. One day, while loading my storage hard drive with artwork from my university days, I realised I could no longer access it. At the time, I just shrugged it off. I’ve always been pretty critical of my old work, so it didn’t feel like much of a loss.

But more recently, it’s hit me that it’s gone for good, and now I find myself looking back on that work with a kind of fondness. I might be a better artist now, but it was never just about craftsmanship. It was about the thought, the effort, and the mindset I had when creating those pieces.

Now all I have left are memories of the illustrations, posters, animations, and comics I made. I’m grateful, at least, that I still have Xander, a comic I was commissioned to illustrate shortly after graduating. It tells the story of a boy travelling through the world of dreams. It’s a project I’ve always held close, one that felt personal even though I didn’t write it. Some people have even said the main character looks like me, which might have been a semi-conscious decision after all. And there’s also, of course, a little book called Booby Trap, an illustrated children’s story about the booby birds of Half Moon Caye, which was later published in Belize and originally grew out of a university project.

But all the smaller projects are gone now, as if by some ruthless natural selection—or more accurately, self-selection. I could have done more to keep them, but whether consciously or not, I chose not to.

I suppose learning to cope with loss isn’t only about losing people. Sometimes, it’s about losing little pieces of yourself. It’s something I’ve only really started to understand as I’ve gotten older.

I shouldn’t have been so hard on my past self. A certain level of self-criticism is important for growth, but so is learning to appreciate what you’ve created, warts and all. Because those works were a part of me.

So I think I owe an apology to young Mr Gibson, the university student. You worked hard, and I owe you more than I realised for where I am today.

Thanks for creating what you did. I’ll always hold it close to my heart.