In my youth the song ‘November Rain’ by Guns and Roses struck me. I felt it was my Mother. It sung of a beautiful woman and of pain and sadness and that was her. She was a survivor of terrible childhood abuse. So strong and kind, yet tortured in her life because of it. The difficulty of her existence and her desire to die was palpable to me, even as child, as much as she attempted to hide this. She said suicide was too selfish. I knew she lived for our sake alone. When the time came for her body to give up and for her to pass from this life, I knew what sweet relief it would bring her. In the darkness of oblivion she would be at peace. She said the rain at night always helped her sleep, a comfort to her. So when she died, I painted the rain. I painted it slowly. To remember her and remind myself that she was at peace and that nothing lasts forever, not life, not pain, not even cold November Rain.
She asked for no funeral. We honoured that. So I minted this for her. I love you Mum.
