Two years later, my parents’ divorce was finalized. My mother would take permanent residency in Manhattan; my father would station himself in Boston. No battle for custody—I was already of age. My parents decided to give the house to me instead of selling it and dividing the profits between them.
I was angry. My parents had decided to abandon the house…the happy house where Thomas and I had grown up! Where they last saw Tom! I refused to let the memories go. They could divide all their properties except this house…I could not believe they were walking away from it and all the memories it had.
I was in my room, and as always, I decided to channel my emotions onto the canvas. I didn’t know what I was painting. But it was a mixture of dark blues, blacks, violets, swirling around in angry pa
