I watched as they took her away. Silent, somber, stoic in their expressions. It was cold, the whole thing; the mood, the air, her hand as I held it one last time before she was loaded in the van destined to a place even more cold; the morgue. I couldn't shake the feelings of grief, shock and disbelief as I turned to go back inside to the dark, dreary world that now awaited my arrival. The silence was deafening. How does one even begin to pick up the pieces, start over, carry on? I thought about that question. I thought about it alot. I walked to the kitchen which was dimly lit with the light creeping from under the cabinets. I grabbed a bottle of scotch I'd been saving for a special occasion; this was an...