Free Illumine Her by Sieni A.M. Page B

“Now what kind of maid of honor would I be if I didn’t support the bride with her every wish? This hike was your idea, remember? Now come on.” She tugged hard and Malia grudgingly stood.
    They began a slow trek along the windy path as it inclined sharply. After thirty more minutes of shuffling, pushing, and goading, Alana and Malia emerged on the clearing where the tomb laid. They toppled on top of it and rested their backs against the engraving. They sat in silence for several minutes, easing their breathing into a normal rhythm, their minds wrapped up in their own thoughts.
    Mosquitoes buzzed near their still legs, searching for the perfect landing spot, and they waved their arms about to chase them away. Alana looked beyond the ridge and took a few moments to take in the view. The expansive Pacific Ocean could be seen from the left while green hills and trees rolled into one another on the right. Tin-roofed homes and passing cars could be made out in the distance, but the breeze didn’t carry their accompanying sounds. Peeling her eyes away, she shifted forward so she could read the inscription on the tomb.
    Under the wide and starry sky,
    Dig the grave and let me lie.
    Glad did I live and gladly die,
    And I laid me down with a will.
    This be the verse you grave for me:
    Here he lies where he longed to be;
    Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
    And the hunter home from the hill.
    Alana stretched out and lay over the tomb, peering up at the sky. Branches swayed in the wind, partially blocking the dusky sphere above. A star began to wink and twinkle in greeting. As quickly as the next breeze came, a strong sense of nostalgia swelled in her chest, and her eyes became moist. She fingered the small shell that dangled around her neck, a gift from her father, and her thoughts were suddenly on him.
    “Lana, don’t ever settle for something short of amazing in whatever you do in your life—there are a myriad of paths and choices to be made. Seek out the signs that speak to your heart and follow them. Then rely on God to protect you the rest of the journey.” He spoke those words to her when she left home for the first time to attend university. Of course he had to then go and add parental guidance as well. “Your mother and I have done everything we can to raise you to be the beautiful and responsible young woman that you are now. Now it’s up to you to make decisions on your own based on the values and morals that you have been brought up with.”
    Alana smiled at the memory. As much as she inwardly berated the over protectiveness coming from her family, in a way she was grateful to them for the fierce way they expressed their love. Even in death, her father was parenting her as she recalled his words of advice in all its cloaked wisdom and love.
    Her thoughts hovered to his last moments on earth. The familiar ache squeezed her chest as she anticipated what his final thoughts would have been. Did he feel as grateful for his life and as ready for death as Robert Louis Stevenson’s engraved words? Did he even have enough time to reflect? God, it was too painful to think about. Damn the dusk and all its memories , she thought as she straightened and wiped angrily at her eyes. And damn that drunk driver to hell.
    ***
    He was out there. Her father’s killer. Sitting in the front yard on the muddy grass with the mat over his head. He had come to carry out the ifoga , a dramatic custom for showing remorse and asking forgiveness from her family. It had rained earlier in the morning and still he sat, waiting under the stifling heat of the afternoon sun. He was there since dawn, and she didn’t feel sorry for him. His humility didn’t touch her, and she didn’t care if he hadn’t eaten or drank anything; her heart had turned to stone long ago. Alana peered out the louvers but kept herself hidden from view. Her father wasn’t even cold in the ground, and he was already out there begging. Let him beg for eternity , she