It’s the face. It’s the face that you know. The face that you remember. You see it. You hear the laugh. It’s the face. People talk, people lie, people… talk. BUT IT’S THE LIFE THAT YOU REMEMBER.

It’s not the end. It’s not the exact story. It’s not whatever tragedy ended up being written down in a statement. It’s not whatever “official” is. It’s not what people say. It’s a face. It’s their face.

You hear the stories. You think of the life. You think of the life and who they were. You think of what you know, what you saw, what you remember. You think of the face. The face. All that matters. THE FACE, THE LAUGH, THE SMILE. Not the death. Not the loss. It’s the face. The face of your friend.

I see him still. I hear him still. I know. I know him. I knew him. It runs through my head, pounding, pounding, beating, thrum, thrum, thrum. THE FACE. I remember his face. I don’t remember what Mum told me. I don’t remember what she said. I can’t hear the words. I just see his face. His face grinning back.

She was young. She was fun, sweet, kind. They all say it. They all knew. They all know. They see, they saw. They know. They know… the face. Speculations fly, lies are told, gossip is SPREAD. Spread. Fire. Fire spreading past the teeth and the lips. It’s the smile. It’s the laugh. She is not gone. Her laugh is still on the wind, her smile still in the mirror. It’s the face. The face stays.

If all you remember is the end, you don’t remember the love. You remember a piece of gossip. Gossip… told by some mouth. A mouth whispering in your ear. If you remember THE END you didn’t know the beginning… the middle… anything. You don’t remember GOOD BYE. You don’t remember a whispered farewell or a flower tossed downward from a limp hand. You don’t remember the tears shed. You remember the face. The face… The smile… The laugh… The life.