The drunk craves profound numbness and shallow enlightenment: he has no history, no future, no God, and no partners, but he has an order of jalapeno poppers on the way, there’s a pretty girl at the other table, and an old favorite he can’t quite remember on the jukebox. His priorities are, shall we say, not in order.

My grandmother is a seventy five year old woman, recently widowed within the past year or so. After nearly fifty years of co-habitation and a loving life with her husband, my grandfather, she suddenly feels as if her life has crumbled.