Chapter 9
I had thought that Samantha would drag out my burial indefinitely.
But to my surprise, three days later, she organized a grand funeral and laid me to rest.
I drifted among the crowd, attending my own memorial service. I watched as they lowered my coffin into the ground.
Samantha, however, remained eerily emotionless throughout the ceremony.
As the funeral drew to a close, Mom suddenly stormed in. She actually stopped the burial.
In the ensuing argument, Samantha was slapped across the face. The sound of the slap echoed loudly.
My mom, a humble country woman who had lived meekly, never dared to speak out against anyone. Yet, she was now striking
Samantha twice at a high–profile funeral with many guests in attendance.
Ignoring the others‘ attempts to stop her, she screamed like a madwoman, “You ruined his life! You ruined it! What did Joziah.
ever do to deserve this? You heartless bitch! You’ve even made sure he can’t rest in peace after death!”
Mom was shoved to the ground by security.
She cried out in despair, “The body in that coffin isn’t my son! It’s not my Joziah! I raised him for 20 years! How could I not
recognize him?”
