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Selfish
oil paint on canvas, 30 x 40 inches
I met him in 2019, he was smart, special, and strong.
He kept his past contained. I was his haven, a glimmer toward a different fate. His dad was doing better, working, living, only smoking weed. He met a new woman, but she was troubled too. They did more and worse drugs and made a troubled baby number two.
He survived his first few years in hospitals and surgery beds and still eats from a tube. When their family got worse they moved into the house with Grandma and the nurse. When nobody got better was when Grandma found her only son hanging from the ceiling, leaving her alone with the baby and the nurse and a final request to only save him from his mother in 2021.
Grandma is 86 and she guards the baby with her life. She protects him so much that he will never grow, and never know what it's like to be loved… she wants to keep him in the family.
I watched him hurt and I watched him break but I was there for his every wake. He changed and shifted each day, but patiently I would wait. He borrowed my light when he was out. He borrowed me when he wanted to feel. He even borrowed my father to carry the casket.