ShemikaI wasn’t crying because my sister died, I was crying because her husband was fingering me in the back of the funeral limo, whispering that I was the real fuc-king.We sat at the back of the moving limousine, as the car gently took us to the funeral home to carry out the proper burial rites for my late sister, Maya.It's no doubt that Maya was a sweet person, loved by all and hated by few. Maya treated me like I was her child. Since we lost Mom, she took me into her home and gave me more than I asked for.She was battling with keeping her pregnancy, she's always having a miscarriage and she'd cried her eyes out after each miscarriage.The weight of Maya's struggle weighed upon her like a whole nation was sitting on her. Maya's husband, Cruz, had suggested surrogacy as a way for them to have a family, since carrying a pregnancy was hard for her. Maya was against the idea, she said she'd tried again.Finally, she was able to keep her last pregnancy, but only for her to die in the
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