The street stretched away from where she stood, looking at the tail-lights disappearing into the darkness. She could hear thunder and lightning off in the distance but she didn't care and soon enough it started to rain. It poured but she didn't move an inch. She clutched the folded flag tighter to her chest and crumbled into a pile on the ground, still staring as though that black SUV might magically re-appear. Finally, she stood again and began to walk back towards the house. She made it to the porch where she then fell to her knees, it had hit her like a freight train. She gathered herself once again and stumbled into the house. She staggered down the hall into the back bedroom and fell helplessly at the foot of the bed.

The memory of that day completely flooded back to her at the sight of his uniform folded and framed hanging above the fireplace. She then felt the weight of the half bottle of Bushmills in her right hand. She stared at it for a minute. Millions of thoughts rushed about in her brain. What am I going to do without him? Why him? Why couldn't it have been somebody else? Or nobody at all? With that thought she immediately took it back. She could never wish this kind of pain on anyone. She still hadn't changed out of his old favorite t-shirt that she had found under the bed days earlier. She forced herself out of the nest of blankets she had made on couch and headed to the kitchen, but the mess scattered about the living room tripped her and she fell sending the bottle of Bushmills sailing. She watched in slow motion as it landed softly in a pile of laundry. Thank god, she thought to herself now I don't have to shower and look half way decent to go buy another bottle.. at least not for a while anyway. She picked herself up off the floor and made it the rest of the way to the kitchen. There, she opened the fridge to look for something to eat. That was also something she hadn't done in days. Since she hadn't left the house, she didn't have any groceries and didn't plan on leaving to get any. There were a few slices of bread so she made some toast. She slid the slices of almost stale bread into the toaster and pressed the button. She leaned back against the counter and stared out the kitchen window. The pop of the toaster startled her. She finished her toast and started back to the living room checking the answering machine on the way. To no surprise, there were more messages from her mother.

"Honey, please call me back, I'm worried about you. I love you, take care." "Sweetheart, I stopped by the house the other day but you didn't answer the door, I hope you're okay." Ignoring them, she walked back to living room, grabbed the bottle of Bushmills out of the pile of laundry, and flopped down on the couch. Slowly she raised the bottle to her lips. The luke warm liquor burned as it ran down her throat. She swallowed, grimaced, and took another swig. Getting closer and closer to the bottom of the bottle, she could see his face in her mind. His short curly blonde hair and piercing green eyes were enough to shock her back to reality. She opened her eyes to find the empty bottle pressed against her lips.

"He wouldn't want this, why am I doing this to myself?" she said out loud. She closed her eyes again and could her him whispering to her, "Whatever happens, I love you. To the moon and back."