~Alina~
The rain had softened into a mist by the time we laid Nana to rest. We buried her in the backyard, in the little garden she loved so much, the one she spent her final days tending when her hands were still steady enough to hold a trowel. The grave was simple and humble, just the way she would have wanted.
A few neighbors and some old family friends came to offer their condolences, their black clothes still damp from the earlier storm. Their murmured prayers floated weakly in the heavy, damp air.
Guilia and I stood side by side, our hands clutching each other tightly, silent tears sliding down our cheeks. I could barely hear the priest’s final words over the sound of my own heart breaking.
When it was done, we climbed into the back of the sleek black Maserati that Rocco had park
