Lost children can be found in many families. Their parents love them, but are too messed up themselves to be good parents. There are lots of clues of the dark side, but there are good times too.
I was only 14 when I first held Tim in my arms. He was a lovable, beautiful baby. His parents were smitten by him. By the time I took the photograph that is the reference for this painting, I already had my doubts as to how well this child was going to do, but at that point, I, too, was a lost child.
His family moved to the other side of the country before I was 18, but not before they had a second son, even more amiable than the first.
Tim died young, and tragically; with a long record of brushes with the law. I often wonder what could have been done, and regret the potential that was lost.