A different coloured fish

By Sheena Crichton Mckenzie 

Our last workshop ahead of the exhibition was a flurry of busyness, conversation and questioning. There was the last- minute completion of art pieces, the start of new, the preparation of a brochure to give exhibition attendees the necessary background and the teasing out of arguments (friendly) with husband around worth and suitability of poetry. We also did a lot of soul searching around whether the exhibition matched the initial brief and whether we were hard hitting enough with our message.

Jane mentioned the previous week that I still ought to do a tea towel and as I walked along the shore with my dog, Nellie, that morning I thought about how I could print the tea towel in such a way that a message about my son’s life could come through. 

I decided on printing fish going along in one direction and there was to be one fish that was different and going against the tide. Of course, that was Hugh. He was always a little different. I liked that. 

He was imaginative, intense, driven and always questioning. Some liked that. Others were exasperated with him. Travelling on the ferry one time I was told Hugh would be a difficult child to teach. Surprised at this response, I asked why. The teacher replied,

“He has hardly finished asking a question and he has another question.”

Image by Pexels from Pixabay

I remembered this one Parent’s Evening in Edinburgh. His Geography teacher complained that he was exasperated with him as he forever had a comment to make and questions to ask. His P.E teacher, however, told me that he loved Hugh’s interest and his questioning. He told me that he sometimes had to ask him to wait and he’d get back to him at the end but that his thirst for knowledge was so refreshing. Two different takes on my dear Hugh and this was so true of people’s attitude towards Hugh. You either got him or you didn’t. Many just didn’t get him. Many just didn’t accept him. That hurt.

And where was I to place that very different coloured fish? I thought first of all about putting it in the centre. Hugh, when together, was right in the middle of things; full on, verbose, funny, high and exhausting. At other times he was there in person but underneath was this frightened, troubled and anxious young man who was fighting to keep afloat. So, I printed my fish at the bottom of the cloth and in a corner. This choice affected Jane deeply. She truly believed that I subconsciously made a deliberate decision to print my wee fish not ‘swimming against the tide’ but swimming off the picture.

Perhaps this was true. Hugh was going another direction, very different to others. He was often very low and unable to engage in all life had to offer. And in the end, he slipped off the picture, lonely, exhausted, alone and seeing no other way. His only desire was not to cause us pain but to stop the crippling fear and be released from pain.

We now are alone, walking a tear- filled path. Is our message hard hitting? I don’t know. But as I stand at the grave of my beautiful son who died by suicide aged 19, there is nothing more hard hitting, cruel, empty, shocking and unresolved than this.

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