DETECTIVE FETTY

My father was buried amidst tears, wails and prayers. He was laid to rest in the London cemetery at the outskirt of the neighborhood. At his funeral service, the reverend consoled us with words from the scriptures, my mother was the first to bid him farewell with a hand full of sand as his coffin was lowered into the grave. She cried, stating how she has forgiving him and cursed his murderers. My siblings just discovered that the new neighbor and their favorite tale teller is their father. They cried uncontrollably and Tami our little brother, he cried because everyone around him cried. We were accompanied home from the cemetery in our black apparels and for a long time, no one said anything. While my father was being lowered to his grave, it dawned on me that I was never going to see him again. This journey wasn’t like his trip to Libya. He was going to a land of no return. Ever since my father was murdered, I kept blaming myself for being unreasonable, for being too rude to him an