{Lament} for a Pirate's Son

"The last time she saw her, she hadn’t wanted her mother to leave. But she had to get that diploma, if she was to get them out of their mess and have a chance at a better life. So he would babysit. It was just for a few hours. Who couldn’t look after a three-year old for a few hours? Speechless, she sat there in a heap, unmoving on the coffee-stained couch of the ICU quiet room. Guilt percolated her every word. Through her tears, she recalled how, at the time of their first meeting, his bandana, torn jeans, curses and three-day stubble had led her daughter to enquire suspiciously whether he was a pirate… Now, in silence, the bitter irony of her child’s imagery was plain," recalls Dr. Bellemare in the Canadian Medical Association Journal.
I opted to paint a portrait of 'the pirate' using acrylics on prepared paper.