An unusually emotional post, today's drawing is actually about the endurance of love and ritual.
My dad walks through the graveyard on his way to the gym most mornings and checks up on my granny and grandad's grave to make sure it looks nice, and I have started walking with him. Over a year ago he made a planter out of granite-like tiles to sit at the front of the stone and we change the flowers regularly. One day we walked to the grave as normal only to find that the planter had gone.
Unable to fathom that someone had nicked it, I blearily looked around to see if it had somehow walked itself to someone else's memorial. After the shock of its apparent disappearance and mutually calling the disembodied no-gooders "bastards", my sweet and resilient dad vowed to make another one.
He did. And this is it.
No comments:
Post a Comment