Some of his paintings spoke so much about him. His paintings usually had scenarios with few people in them. People he had made completely in his own mind. Nanny would pay a visit once in a while and they would talk about those people. She would tell him how his grandfather had a keen interest in art and if we would have been alive, he would be very proud. Some of his paintings were incomplete and he never bothered to complete them. Nanny would force him to finish them soon. But, he would always find a way out and let them be the way they’re.
“I’m waiting for them to develop themselves. People want their time. I’m giving them exactly that.” Phil said once.
Nanny would then retire her arguments and move to the kitchen. Some nights, he wouldn’t sleep, and these nights he would end up creating his best work. In the morning, the verandah would seem entirely different. Like it’s his own world and he is the one who made it alive.
He never met his grandfather. Never saw him. He had no idea how he looked like.
After seeing the canvas next morning, Nanny kissed his head and said, “This is so far your best.”
“You say this for all of them.”
Nanny laughed. It was a painting of a man sitting in a similar verandah. His face wasn’t seen. But, he was looking at the sky. The sky looked more beautiful than it was.
“This reminds me of your grandfather. Like, he is suddenly alive through this painting.”
Phil looked up at Nanny and smiled. “Tell me what else reminds you of him?”
“You. You are so much like him. When I see you, your eyes, that are so fascinated upon seeing some of his work, it reminds me of him. Mornings, particularly. Your nana wouldn’t come out of a room for two three days until he finished his work. When he would finish, he would come to our room early morning, excited, and take me hurriedly to the art room. I would be sleepy and grumpy and mad at him. But, it would last until I see his work. His work was magnificent. We would share his views over the world and his work over a cup of coffee and sugar donuts. His passion was fire and it would keep us warm.” Nanny smiled. “When I look at you spending nights here, it reminds me of him. I’ll get you something to eat.” she walked into the kitchen.
Phil was looking at his incomplete paintings. Then, he smiled.
The entire day they spoke about his grandfather and Phil was too fascinated, overwhelmed.
That night, Phil decided to finish all the paintings that were left incomplete. The entire night he absorbed himself in a world that suddenly seemed more familiar.
Next morning, he ran to Nanny’s room and woke her up deliberately just like his grandfather. “They are complete now honey. Come, I’ll make you meet them.”
Nanny laughed.”Oh, Phil!”
When Nanny saw the paintings, she didn’t know what to say. She just looked at Phil and started to cry.
“What’s wrong, Nanny?”
She pointed out to the man he painted in two of his paintings.
“This is exactly how your nana looked, Philip.”
His grandfather’s eyes were beautiful and blue.