Theo I looked from her to the easel, every fiber of my being wanted me to hide again, assume ignorance and remain angry, to shut down anything that would trigger a memory but my cowardice made me alike with my father, the only difference was that I didn't light the fire. I took in the content on the canvas, line by line and the more I looked, the blurrer my vision became as realization dawned on me. I numbly moved forward, my fingers touched the canvas lightly, what this piece was about, what my mother had obsessed about during her last moments, the one piece my father could not touch and standing there staring at it, incomplete yet I understood immediately why it was spared. It was spared because I was my mother's last piece. My tears dropped freely now, a mix of nostalgia and grief tightened my chest. I groaned out, leaning slightly, holding on to the easel for support, the pain of loss carve
Magbasa pa
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