I’m painting a mural of my mother on the sidewall of our childhood home. She passed away a couple of months ago, and it’s been really hard on our entire family, but my father especially. My mother and father were married for 63 years and were more in love than most newlyweds at the time of my mothers passing. Her death has broken his heart, and I want him to know that even if he can’t physically be with her, that she’s always there. Hence the mural.
Now let me preface by saying that I’m no professional painter. In Melbourne, there are hundreds of talented artists that I could have hired to paint the mural for me, but I want to do it as a way for me to reflect on my life with my mother and the impact she had on me. I want this to be a tribute to her fantastic life and I want it to come from me. It helps that I’m not a bad artist, so I should be able to do a decent job of painting my mother’s face, even if it isn’t perfect.
I’m now halfway through the mural and it’s taken me about thirty hours so far. It’s a massive project, and I have to admit that at times I have regretted my decision not to hire commercial painting contractors who could probably do the job in half the time. Once my regret has passed, often quickly when I look up at half my mother’s face and reminisce about my love for her, I know that all this work will pay off. I love my father and he loves my mother, and it will mean a lot to him that this is coming from me.
My father has been away with my brother for the last two weeks and is unaware of what I’m doing. I can’t wait to tell you all about his reaction when it’s finished and my brother brings him home.