At 10 years old, my mom told me to never get my eyebrows threaded until I was 18. I'd watch her fill her eyebrows in while she gets ready to go to some club in the city. Dad never liked it. He always asked, "Where are you going? Why are you leaving? Who's watching the kids?" But, she ignored him and never answered; She was too busy filling in her eyebrows.

Mom always picked out the best colors to wear with her outfits on the night of her party. Pinks, yellows, & reds. But, one day I noticed this blue color. Dark blue, almost purple. I got closer and saw it wasn't eye shadow; it was a bruise. A sight I will never forget, permanently embedded in my memory. I watched my dad frequently, almost everyday, apply this blue/purple on her eyes.

Sometimes it wasn't just on her eyes. Each day it would spread. From her arms, to her neck, and maybe her back - when she least expected it.

Mom heads out to go to work. She's an RN at the hospital. I can hear her frantically digging through her makeup bag, looking for her foundation & concealer. She doesn't know I'm watching, but she covers all of the blue/purple marks on her body. It's not noticeable anymore. It's how she hides it, concealing her bruises & pain simultaneously. Maybe I'II be able to hide the depression & helplessness behind all that foundation & concealer. No one will ever see the bags under my eyes caused from quiet cries and lack of sleep.

Contouring. It's like making your face slimmer. You almost look like a different person. You may feel like a different person. I was twelve. I just turned 12, actually. I couldn't find my mom or my dad. My sister didn't know where they were. No one did, except the detectives and the coroner. "Your mom is gone." Two days later they said, "So is your dad." After hearing that, I was a different person.

I had to set that piece of reality within me. It was forever. They're gone, and so was I. I couldn't find myself anymore, but my makeup found me.

I can't cry. I can, but I'll ruin my makeup. I'm almost done; let me apply some lipstick. I wonder what my dad was thinking when he busted mom's lip. I wonder what he was thinking when he took her life with so many bullets - bullets that I feel are in me. What was he thinking when he took his own? He left us all alone. Questioning what love is, is this love? My mom not there to tell me which lipstick color to wear on the day of prom, my wedding.

After all that time, going through that process, it's time for the best part. Highlighter. It's only right to glow. Despite all the stress, sadness, and my insecurities - I have to shine. I have to be better.

For me. For my mom. For my siblings. I'm finally at a place where I'm comfortable in my truths and in my skin. I can feel whole again. I spend all this time doing my makeup, not only to feel better, but also to shine. I follow many steps to bring me to the finished results, to bring me to my happiness. It's what reminds me of the smallest piece I have left of her.