She didn't look at him. She couldn't. He used to be her father. He used to buy her sunflower seeds at the little convenience store near their home. She used to sit on his shoulders as he walked the dirt road, both of them searching the skies for the crows they could here.
He told her stories of a time when her mother dressed her in frilly dresses with lacy bloomers. He told her of how she would look all over the yard for Easter Eggs hidden within easy reach of her tiny little hands. He told her stories about everything, each one making her laugh.
She always thought he told the best stories. Even as a grown woman she thought his stories were the best. She thought he always would.
Today, she couldn't even look at him. She knew she should. She would never get another chance.
He lay there in the black suit she had picked out for him, settled into the gilded, oak casket and surrounded by flowers and loved ones. She didn't look at him.