Empty fireplace. Cobwebs in corners. A half empty coffee pot with mold floating. You can see your breath.White sheets over furniture. Hardwood floors no longer shine.

They’re buried out back. Two rocks with initials on them in red. Stick crosses tied with rubber bands mark the spot as well. The grass is brown and yellow.

Broken glass. Holes in windows. Kids look inside on Halloween. Nothing but darkness.

Used to visit here when I was a child in summertime. A swingset and slide in the backyard. Shiny metal and iron are now rusted.

I look at this place and remember my grandparents. Grandma who suffered from depression and Grandad always drank from the bottle. A constant pack of cigarettes by his easy chair as well. He was the first to go. Didn’t believe in a heaven or hell. No god or devil. Just Johnny Walker Red was used to guide him through a life that ended on a winter’s day.

My father and I dug the holes in the backyard. We placed his fragile body down in the earth. I asked my dad why we were digging two holes at the same time?

We might as well do it now while we got the will, he said. Sides, she’ll pass on pretty soon.

And she did, January, 1st, 1982. We didn’t even have to place her in the hole. She was found there with a gun in her hand and a hole in her soul.