Thursday, February 16, 2012
My mother, Frances Miller doesn't need to light a candle for you, Luquinn. Her candle remained burning with a passionate love all these years, my dear. She recalls the two of you lying in an upstairs bedroom in the stately beautiful home on the highway in Richmond, Ks. You two young, vibrant full of passion crying and screaming all the way to church over the death of Roosevelt. She read your final testament in the local paper and watched your long procession take you to your resting place. She said you two would have made something out of the date and time of your departure from this life. You will never be forgotten my dear. deb, daughter of Frances.
