The widow standing in her closet. Full of button downs and corduroy trousers. overwhelmed with memories yet still so empty. I look at the photo you left behind. The widow’s empty feeling and sorrow consumes me. in the photo, I only see the pain You caused me. Surrounded by her husband's scent and the grass stains of last sunday’s picnic. The children are peering in looking at their world. crumble around them.