We buried my mother the next day. The funeral was attended by only Jolie, Lin, and me. Jolie was in tears the whole time. I had cried all of mine earlier. Lin was stony faced.
I went back into our apartment to get my belongings–the gun, the Walkman, my mother’s compact mirror, her altar, the tin can of money, and some of my clothes. The blood had dried into a dark sticky mess, that blanketed the room, and when I went in to get my things, a number of flies were hovering around it. Continue reading