“Goodbye, Pa,” Quila whispered, letting her tears scurry down her cheeks and chin. She touched the glass cover of his coffin. Sniffling, she stepped back with Wine and Cognac beside her, holding each of her arm. Without them, she might have collapsed to the ground.
Her brother Whisky never left their mother’s side. She wept just like their father’s close relatives. Angelie was there to help her sit beside her mother.
As the sun disappeared in the horizon, covered by gray clouds that late afternoon, they watched as the head of their family’s coffin being lowered to the dismal hole that would become his permanent residence.
Quila could not believe her father would be staying there from now on, lying inside a cramped place covered by cement and cold soil. She could not see him anymore. She
