My father and brother returned to our family home last night. It was too dark for them to see the mural, just like I had wanted because it needs to be seen in the daylight to truly be appreciated. We both stayed over last night in our old rooms, which was really weird because it’s something I haven’t done in over twenty years, but it is definitely going to be worth it. I’m about to take my father outside.
Alright, it’s official, I’m crying. I just watched my father look up the wall on the side of his house and have his eyes instantly well up with tears. A single tear fell down his cheek before he could speak, and then he asked me who did this and how. At first, he thought it was the work of an exterior painter in Melbourne. Seeing as Melbourne has a lot of them, I’m not surprised that he thought that, but I am surprised that he thought it was of a high enough quality to be done by a professional.
When I told him I painted it, he was beside himself. He threw himself onto me and gave me the biggest hug I had ever been given. He sobbed into my shoulder and kept speaking about how happy he was to have her there and how much he missed her. I think he said the word ‘love’ at least twenty times in a five minute period. He is truly an angel and I hope this will bring him some comfort for the years to come.
When my brother and I eventually inherit the family home, I wonder if we’ll keep the mural or if we’ll get a plaster restoration on the entire outside of the house. I would find it really hard to get a professional to plaster over my beautiful mother, but I understand that the house might not sell with a massive face of a random woman on the side of it. Maybe someone will appreciate the art.