My father was a working class hero and a private contractor who did all the hardest jobs. He taught me the meaning of hard work by having me work with him painting houses and fixing roofs through the hot summers of my youth in San Antonio Texas. One day he got bit on the ankle by a brown recluse spider. The wound never healed and became infected with M.R.S.A. through the hospitals. After seven years of battling a terrible infection that ate his leg up to his knee, he began to have horrifying hallucinations and was hospitalized with a severe case of sepsis. After two weeks he was released from the hospital and the Doctors all said he was fine. Three days later he was was found dead at the age of 56. The next day I got a call from the sheriff informing me of my fathers untimely demise. Later that night I painted this image. I was in shock and did not shed a tear until I got about half way through it, and then the tears began to flow freely down my face. Rest in peace Gene Raymond Ferguson.
in loving memory,
David Stein Ferguson
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