Gaynor described the heartbreaking decision her family faced after their mother died.<\/p>\n
“Taking them down, you’re not taking a painting, you’re taking them,” she said.<\/p>\n
The portraits were buried alongside their mother.<\/p>\n
“We buried them with Mam in a white box, like a little coffin.<\/p>\n
“We placed them facing each other.<\/p>\n
“It felt like burying them again.”<\/p>\n
For Jeanette, the future of Edwina’s portrait is a source of concern.<\/p>\n
“I worry about what will happen to the painting,” she said. “I want people to see them.”<\/p>\n
Denise feels the same pull between preservation and possession.<\/p>\n
“It’s a treasure,” she said. “I could never part with it.”<\/p>\n
Nearly six decades after the disaster, the paintings remain extraordinary objects. They were created by a man who had never met the children, but his kindness ensured they were treasured by the families who received and loved them.<\/p>\n
By painstakingly recreating the faces of children who had been lost, William Richardson gave something precious back to a community living with unimaginable grief.<\/p>\n
For many families, the portraits did more than capture memories. They brought the children home.<\/p>\n