this piece is very dear to my heart. it is a memory of my childhood, a piece on the grief i felt when my granda passed away.

this was his chair. we went to visit them every sunday, and what i would give to go back in time to sit with him and listen to his stories about delivering coal or oil. I loved hearing his stories about my dad, their childhood, the travels they went on around canada and america.

i have the fondest memories of him coming home from walking the dog in the park, falling asleep in this chair and me and my two sisters would dress him up in our costumes and paint his nails and put make up on him. the man must have been tortured but he never let it show.