I'd be filled with questions. I'd ask my sister what happened on the night she died because it's been 36 years now and I still don't have answers.

I'd ask my paternal grandmother if she knew I was there right before she died.

I'd ask my uncle why he felt it was necessary to put a gun to his head and pull the trigger instead of talking to someone about it.

I'd ask my mother's side of the family why most of them acted as if they hated me.

I'd ask my great-grandmother why her brothers killed my great-grandfather.

So many questions. No answers.