I drew my mother for the first time when I was in art school, and didn't draw her again until she had her first, then second stroke, and became like a child to me. Nothing prepares you.
When my mother passed, I was lost. I did not know how to survive but I started to paint, madly, and write, always. I pulled the despair out of me and onto paper.
I painted my pain, then angels, and then my mother began to nudge me, telling me it was time to paint her. I looked for her in the wedding photos that were taken when she was just nineteen. I found her in the hours, days and weeks that I spent looking into her face, her eyes.
Beloved mother, you never leave my side. Your beautiful, gnarled, arthritic feet rest in my lap, and I am home. You lie in the shadows of me, keeping me from harm.
All photographs of paintings taken by myself on my Nikon3200.
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This is a nostalgic and a heart-rending piece. One would not know how magnificent and adorable someone is because we have them around us everytime until they are no more. I could feel that spasm and pang within me as i read through this piece. It is such an instructive piece
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Thank you @baboyed100! So true! I miss the minutes and hours and days that we did not spend together. But now I have her always close by me, in my heart.
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