No smile, no frown, no expression. A flat mask tells a story, but no one wants to listen. Gaze neither warm nor icey, UNREADABLE
.
The eighty year old lady stayed home each night, cooked dinner, cleaned house, paid bills, watched tv quietly, and alone. Belly full, Mr Michaels fell asleep on the couch, never sharing any thoughts or dreams. The only visible signs of life were displayed during Monday Night Football.
Mother of six children, Grandma of 21 grandchildren yet the phone never rang.The doorbell may as well be broken. Ms Michaels' mind, body, and heart had been broken so many times that her spirit was tired. The display of emotion took too much energy. Pain was a constant companion. Joy was a distant acquaintance barely remembered.
Days droned on. The mask was never removed. It portrayed a dead soul, a zombie, a robot. The mask did not relay the story. The story of regret, shame, guilt, and abuse endured. The mask did not relay the story of a life once lived full of anger, violence, and fear. The mask had been a lifetime unwelcome companion.
Her last words could have removed it. " I forgive them."