My wife is dead. After Martha died, I fell into a state. I didn't want to be bothered with anything. Unfortunately, one of those things was our son.
Everywhere I look, I see her, but her broken, bleeding body always takes over the pleasant images. Some people from the city came to our home. Once a beautiful farmhouse, it is now in a state of neglectful decay, like my heart. My son had to live in such a place. Those people wanted to take him from me. They said I could no longer properly care for him, so they would find someone who could.
I couldn't lose him. Not our baby.
I didn't have a car, that had been totaled with Martha, but I had a bicycle. I dressed for the first time in months, popped our son into a car seat which I attached to the bike and rode off.
Martha and I weren't able to have any of our adventures before she died, so instead I share them with my son. If we die, we die as a family, just like we would have lived.
Rest in peace, Marti. I'll take care of our boy.