My father, whom I called “Tata” 
(Slavic nickname for ‘daddy’)
painted many portraits of me...  

...I had to pose for hours -
meditation training at an early age!  


Every day, my father would sit at his easel from early morning until he lost the light.  Then he’d retire to the piano and play a medley of the most passionate interpretations of Beethoven or Mozart sonatas, Chopin etudes or Brahms lullabies. 

He passed away suddenly over Thanksgiving weekend, 1970, after an accidental fall.  Having become preoccupied with my own teenage interests, it was an unexpected and shocking loss.  I will miss him forever. 

The following lyric will be translated into Serbian and the song and music video are works in progress...


Your hands held me tight;

I had no fear of falling

Your hands played the keys,

I followed the calling 


Blue Jumper

My father,

looking down from the stars above

From now until forever,

I will never forget your love

Anna Reading Babar

Miss your hands, I treasure

the first you ever drew,

Tonka Sleeping






They painted "The Actor"

holding a mask for his play






Indian Summer

Our hearts and our souls

You did portray

The Painting Lesson

You painted Kachinas dancing,

on Hopi native land

Canyon De Chelly

A Pueblo procession as they proudly stand


Riders on the Great Plains,

a native’s bow and arrow 

Your last brush stroke,

the brown fur of a buffalo

A sacrifice of sacred beast

provides for all a home and feast

Mixed Media on Paper
Borislav Bogdanovich
Estate Stamp, c. 1935
13 1/2" x 19" inches

When you met the Native tribes, your eyes could finally see

It was then that you found the Land of the Free


Each work of art that you left behind,

Your legacy will last through time,

through time...





They painted my eyes,

my gaze was straight and true

Much was said in silence,

just between us two

All over the house, 

you tracked spots of Prussian Blue










They immortalized

the first born son you hardly knew




The Actor



They captured mother’s beauty

on an Indian Summer’s day




My father,

looking down from the stars above

From now until forever,

I will never forget your love


A Navajo family in the Canyon

The Procession
The Buffalo Hunt


Your country was at war when you had to flee

Across the ocean to the Statue of Liberty


You painted, 'til you lost the light,

Every day until you lost the fight


Miss your voice, no more good mornings,

no goodbyes that Winter’s day

It took years to forgive you;

there’s so much left to say

Lived a lifetime without you, still memories abound

I was just a girl when you fell, from the platform to the ground

You were the first to win my heart

and the first to break it down 

My Father, far from your homeland, looking down from the stars above,

From now until forever, I will never forget your love

My Father, every day and always .... I will miss you.... and I will always miss your hands 

Anna Thea Bogdanovich

MISS YOUR HANDS © 2014-2019  Anna Thea Bogdanovich