Wednesday, March 14, 2018

Facade....




She took one last look around the house.

It looked bare and unloved now without all the little bits and pieces that dominated the rooms, much like her grandmother's personality had dominated her childhood.

A harsh, cold woman who didn't see a need for empathy or compassion.

Those things only made you weak.

Yet some nights she would wake to hear the strains of Beethoven or Strauss floating through dark and she'd sneak down the stairs to watch as her grandmother sat at the piano.

Alone in the dark with only the light of the moon shinning through the windows, lost in the music she was making.

This soft and tender side her grandmother never let anyone see.

This facade, this side of herself her grandmother kept hidden.

She would never understand why...







2 comments:

  1. Hari OM
    My father's mother was this...until her final year, when dementia broke the walls and insights were made which explained much... YAM xx

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  2. this post reminds me of my great uncle carl to a degree;
    { weezer's brother } he was gruff, but once you sassed him back, you both knew where you stood. not to mention if weezer called him at 3AM and said the roof just blew off her house; if he had to WALK to get there; he would have done so, and been up on the roof fixing it even while the storm was going on ~~~~~~ love you dood ♥♥ !!

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