Margaret Albay's face

The face of absence is ugly. Margaret is gone, leaving only a photograph. Illness took her one morning, and she never returned. Faced with the tragedy of departure, all that remains is a wall against which to bang your head until it bleeds. You wander the streets, searching for her face, but you cannot find it. Her radiant face has been extinguished, leaving only the grim face of departure. Therefore, she will speak, she will tell stories. She will tell tales to lull the little one to sleep. She will recount to her what you, in your short life, could not tell. She will soothe her soul with stories of people who lived lives as truncated as hers, and others who offered colorful dreams to fate... and she will not despair. The face of loss is ugly. Margaret disappeared, leaving behind only a photograph. One morning, illness struck her, and she has not returned since. Faced with the tragedy of your loss, all you can see is a wall against which to bang your head until it bleeds. You wander the streets searching for her face, but you cannot find it anywhere. Her radiant face has vanished, leaving only the ugly face of loss. To this face, you will confess and tell stories. You will read bedtime stories to soothe the little one. You will tell her all the stories her short life didn't give you time to tell her. You will calm her soul with stories of people who lived fragmented lives like hers, and others who were blessed with vivid dreams... You will tell her story after story, and you will never tire.