The 15th of September, a day that I usually allow to pass without too much notice. It is 29 years ago that my father died and it is maths that makes today different. I was 29 when I had my first child so he is now the age I was when I effectively became parentless. My mother was already terminally ill with neurosarcoidosis at the time of my fathers death. This is not in any way a sad ponder. I am blissfully lucky to have two adult children who stand successfully on their own two feet and for whom being actively parented is not essential. They are also fabulous parents themselves. But what exactly, as a fully grown adult did I lose 29 years ago. How has my life map been altered by not having an older generation above me for almost half of my life. No brothers or sisters aunts, uncles or cousins to seek the answer to life’s adult quandaries. In truth I have muddled along with the help of friends and sometimes strangers. By and large muddling along has been fine, there really has been no other option. I am certain that with my parents around some of my adult decisions would have been different and better informed. That in itself is quite life affirming, in that, with a little bit of effort poor decision making can be turned around.

A few years ago I bought this painting of two Hares from a fellow artist. It reminded me of that September day 29 years ago. My Dad has quite a sociable death and he had gathered the people he wanted to see over the few days of his demise. His bedroom overlooked the flat fields of the Essex countryside. The recently harvested fields were the playground of Hares whose antics gave everyone something else, beyond death to think of.

I have never seen a Hare since.

Today I decided to turn this small picture into a much larger print as a celebration of love and loss, and all the complexity of being the young matriarch and growing to be an old one.

https://www.sharihills.co.uk/