My father never really liked art. Or, at least, it just didn’t interest him. And he certainly never seemed to understand what I did as an artist. 18 months ago, he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. This last Christmas, I gave him and my mother large prints of these on canvas for their living room. They are from a trip we took to California 5 or 6 years ago. It took me until then to finally get them right.
My mother tells me that he would stare at them for hours on end, sometimes sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night to do so. He couldn’t stop gushing about them to anyone who entered the house. He wanted to buy me an expensive camera and pay for me to make hundreds of prints. They unfortunately didn’t have the money to do any of that, but that’s okay. It just means the world to me that he believed in me.
My father passed away two days ago, on August 26th. Despite seeing it as a blessing that he is now at peace and no longer in pain, the pain I feel seems insurmountable. But I will follow his example and try my best to persevere with grace while caring deeply and selflessly for those I love.
As soon as I get the money to make new prints, I will be donating them in his memory to Shepherd’s Cove, the Hospice facility in Albertville, Alabama where he spent his final days. I’m told that the CEO of the facility has been notified and is very excited to accept them. Maybe they can bring the same sense of peace and awe to others in their final days that they brought to my father. He would have been proud of that.
-Adenine Owl, August 28th, 2014
(Source: adenineowl, via adenineowl)