Even though it was my grandfather who actually took this photograph, the story behind it touches me a great deal and a mere look at the retrieved glass negative film makes my knees shiver.My grandfather was a photographer in the 20s and 30s. Despite regularly documenting the life of his family, there was not a single image of his most beloved middle son Mireček. Although he only lived to see three full years, he was an exceptional child loved by the whole village (in Southern Bohemia) for his remarkably mature behaviour, self-reliance and funny incidents. You could say that my grandgather lived his life for Mireček. ( I just want to point out that I currently have three sons in the same ages as it was in the case of my grandfather at the time).
When Mireček was three years old, he became sick with an ordinary illness, but the village doctor injected the shot incorrectly and Mireček fainted. During this time, my grandpa held him in his hands and continued to hold him for the next two days. And in an act of pure desperation and dispair, he took the only photo of his little boy to at least preserve him in his memory.
A few years later, my grandfather died of cancer. In a way, he was set free, since he spent his last days grieving with remorse and nostalgia.