“No, you do not understand anything at all,” Martha cut him off sharply.

She looked past his shoulder at the sealed casket.

There were no fresh wildflowers from her country garden, no childhood pictures of Christopher, and no white roses like the ones he placed on his father’s memory site every single year.

Only one large commercial arrangement of white lilies stood beside the metal chairs.

A silver ribbon draped across the petals read: BELOVED HUSBAND AND VISIONARY LEADER.

There was no mention of him being a loving son or a caring neighbor.