He sits down at the kitchen table opposite a chair that is only occupied by ghosts these days.
Some days the children he never had sit, and eat cereal as they laugh at each other's jokes. Some days it's his brother who's chopper went down over the Pacific so many years ago. Every now and then, others pass through and share a meal with him; but the most common guest is his wife who died five years ago this day.
It's been hard for him since his wife passed. The cancer came in fast and hard. The doctors couldn't do anything except say a few nice words and send them on their way.
Alcohol might have helped, if he had ever drank. Instead he kept receiving the social security checks as the pain slowly crept closer and closer to his heart.
He kept the darkness at bay with his routine. Wake up, eat, watch TV, go to the store, play nine holes on the links, eat, take a nap, eat, read a book, put the gun in his mouth and wish he was brave enough to pull the trigger, sleep, start over the next day.
Finally he let the pain invade the shores of his heart and mind, and with it came bravery.
So on this anniversary he said good bye to each of the ghosts that had kept him company over the last five years. He played with his kids he never had. He talked about life his his bother who had died for an obscure noun. And finally he held his wife's hand, looked her deep into her eyes and told her how much he loved her. A single tear rolled down his cheek and they pulled the trigger together.
