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" I followed her to the wooded area. There was a big brush pile and a stack of wood next to it. I shined the flashlight that I brought on the wood pil.... "You got a lot of wood there." I said to her. "That's what she said!" She stated back. I just shook my head and giggled. She started to reach for some of the brush that was on the ground. "The stuff on the bottom really burns good." She said as she was bending over to grab some. When she bent over the sweater she was wearing finally pulled up. We drove to Dwyer Funeral Home in Parkland, across the street from the Market Place grocery store. My mom wasn't coming. But she saw watched us leave in my Mustang, her face red with tears. She loved dad once, before he became abusive. I think she may have loved him when she pulled the trigger on the shotgun and killed him. Mom just hated Dad more than she loved him by then. The funeral was held in small room, a few rows of pews before the plinth and the simple urn, that contained Dad's ashes,. More

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