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A long day of grief and goodbyes

Family and friends packed three churches, one after the other, to mourn the young women who died in a car crash.

By AMBER MOBLEY
Published September 18, 2005

	[Times photo: Brian Cassella]
	Rosalynn Sherman, left, and Kimberle Henry comfort each other after speaking during Andromeda Spencer's funeral service. They attended church with Andromeda. Alana Williams Viquilla Troupe Andromeda Spencer

TAMPA - Three young lives, gone.

Viquilla Troupe, 18, Andromeda Spencer, 20, and Alana Williams, 19, all of Tampa.

On Saturday, family, friends, and community members who had put so much hope in the three college students came together for a tearful day of funerals.

The mourners packed three churches in east Tampa less than a mile apart, one after another, each one containing a white coffin ringed with flowers. The first eulogy began shortly after 9 a.m. The last one finished at 3:30 p.m. Through it all, those who had loved the children, sisters and friends known affectionately as Qui, Drama and Lana drew close to mourn, grieve, console one another, sing their praises and remember.

The three young friends died Sunday in a car crash on Interstate 75 as they were returning to Florida State University after coming home to Tampa for a weekend visit.

In the sanctuary of St. John Progressive Missionary Baptist Church, Viquilla Ronaa Troupe looked like a princess, with long white gloves, a sparkling white dress, a white rose and a jeweled tiara.

Another side to Viquilla's life was represented by the T-shirt resting beside her, signed by fellow athletes. She ran track, played basketball, and did color guard, karate and cheerleading.

After the hymns, the prayer and a poem, her father, Victor Troupe, found the strength to stand and speak.

His white suit seemed to glow as he took slow steps from the front pew to the pulpit a few feet away. "I have to speak about my daughter," he said.

"Amens!" arose from the audience amid flapping paper fans and falling tears.

"I don't say "I love you' much. I'm not a very emotional person. But I have to say I love my daughter."

Amen! Thank you, Jesus!

The Rev. Bartholomew Banks brought the morning service to a close. "I know this sister had great plans for her life," he said. "Her father had great plans for her life, but we know not the hour nor the day."

The white casket was rolled toward the door. A man in a top hat steered a horse-drawn white carriage to the front of the church, and it carried the coffin to the cemetery.

It was 10:30 a.m., and less than half a mile away, cars were already lining the streets around First Baptist Church of College Hill, where relatives and friends were preparing to say their final "good nights" to the young woman they called "Drama' - Andromeda Myosia Spencer. Audrick and Alrick Drummond were there. The twin sisters survived the crash that killed their three friends. Alrick had been driving. Audrick was in the front passenger seat. Both attended all three funerals.

Slowly and stiffly, Audrick, who had been in critical condition the night of the crash, walked to the front of the church. She had scratches on her forehead, scratches on her hands.

"I'm grateful that we did have time together," she said, tears streaming down her face. "She'll always be my sister, and I'll always be hers."

The Rev. Abraham Brown, pastor of First Baptist Church of College Hill, said he couldn't preach Andromeda's funeral.

"You preach your own funeral by the life you live," he said, and reminded the congregation that tomorrow is not promised.

"Those five girls got into a car going to Tallahassee expecting to arrive," he said. "Unbeknownst to them, God had another plan."

Another procession passed down the road, and the focus of the community's grief turned to New First Union Missionary Baptist Church, where a third white coffin stood before the pulpit.

Whatever God's plan was for her, Alana Williams was ready.

The Middleton High School traditional education program valedictorian for the Class of 2004 said so in her graduation speech, which was printed in her funeral program.

"He will take me to wherever he wants me to be," she wrote.

Still, family and friends couldn't help but cry, shout, sing and jump with the pain of not having her here on earth anymore. Every pew was filled - including those in the choir stand.

People lined the walls.

Sadness would crescendo to wailing and sobs, as soloists delivered hymns with soulful power and people streamed forward to bid farewell to Alana. Nearly an hour passed as mourners approached the casket, some falling to the floor with grief.

Moments later, that grief would turn into praise with celebratory shouting, hand clapping and foot stomping, as the congregation took solace in the promise of the Scriptures and the comfort of gospel music.

So was the ebb and flow, from tears to jubilation and back.

Alana's teenage sister Kevia Smith and friend Willontae Gentle sang Mariah Carey's We Belong Together, replacing "baby" with "Lana." "Who can take your place, there ain't nobody else, oh Lana, Lana, we belong together,' " they sang, choking on tears.

Later, Kevia promised not to cry as she talked about her sister.

She kept her promise.

Kevia said she stopped crying because of 1 Thessalonians 4:14-18. Like a little grown woman, she suggested the audience read it on their own time and continued.

"It was time for (Alana) to go, and I'm not going to question God. That's plain and simple," she said.

"And I know my sister's looking down on me saying, "Keep going,' and that's exactly what I'm going to do."

Another hearse, another procession of cars, and the long day of grief and goodbyes came to a close.

[Last modified September 18, 2005, 02:15:36]