So many alcoholics in the family. All of them incapable of dealing with the situations they chose. Selfish. There is no other way to describe it. They didn’t care who they hurt as long as their pain was numbed. Open bottle. Drink one more. Drink until the pain has turned to sleep. And then, when they die bury them six feet under with God knows how many gallons of vodka in the casket with them. Dysfunctional.
Every family member that came in carried a gallon of Dark Eyes vodka. She watched as they approached the casket looking forlorn and sorrowful. Then they’d see the other gallons of vodka propped up around him. They’d smile and laugh. The rest of the family was watching as well and laughter erupted from the seating area each time someone else realized others had thought of bringing vodka to his casket. She was glad he was dead. He couldn’t violate her anymore. It was their fault, too. They watched. They drank. They forgot.