The church had filled up, and the subdued murmurings filtered across the sanctuary. Ironic that the big open space was called that. It felt like anything but a sanctuary.

“Anna, darling, stop twirling your ring. It makes you look fidgety,” said the petite woman sitting next to her. She leaned over to Anna and sniffed. “Did you even bother to take a shower this morning?”

“Mom. Stop. Please, just...stop.”

Anna glanced over her shoulder. There was hardly an empty seat to be found. It wasn't surprising. He'd been a loved man.

Hours later, after standing through long lines of sorrow-filled platitudes, Anna stood alone. The casket poised over the dark hole waiting to swallow the other half of her marriage. They'd been clinging to the last bits of their life together, trying to salvage the remaining shadows of love. But broken love isn't a mansion after a tornado has swept through where the strong brick walls protect the inner rooms. It's a trailer swept away with splinters scattered across three counties.

No, there hadn't been any real hope of keeping their marriage going, and the pretense of doing so had been near its demise. Still. She hadn't wished him dead. They had hurt each other, no doubt, but she felt an overwhelming sense of sadness as she studied the casket. Sadness at the shoddy turn of their marriage. Sadness at the loss of his life. Sadness that they hadn't gotten a last ditch effort to fix all that had gone wrong.

Anna sighed and turned towards her car. The heels she wore pinched her toes, and the snow had started again. It was time to go home. Not back to the loft near Pike's Place. Not to the office she spent more time at than the loft, but home. As she slipped behind the wheel of the BMW, she glanced over at her husband's coffin.

“I'll see you on the other side, Brant.”