"When he died, it was like...all the walls fell down. Like...I don't know, it felt like our whole little house of cards crumbled as soon as he got taken out, and we had to start all over again. For weeks I felt like I had to learn to walk and talk and act again...I couldn't even tie my shoes without blanking out."

Gina squeezed her eyes shut as the truth of Zac's words flooded over her. She, too, remembered the confusion that followed Taylor's death. The days had passed in a whirlwind of decisions and conversations that didn't seem quite real-- oak or cedar on the casket, what color lining, what kind of flowers, locations and pastors...the effort it took to begin referring to her husband in the past tense sickened her, took her breath away when she tried.

The funeral was the breaking point. As she made her way into the tiny church where the service was to be held that day, she came upon a young girl, thanktopped and sweaty in the summer heat, her face sticky and swollen from crying. The girl was a fan, appearing barely older than fifteen and no more interesting or remarkable than the weeds growing in through the cracks in the parking lot, but the sight of her pain-- open, harsh and uninhibited, moved Gina so that she reached out for the girl, wrapping her arms around perspiring shoulders and burying her face in the girl's freckled neck. The pair remained embraced as other denim-clad teens crept out from behind surrounding cars and began making their way toward the place where Gina stood. Soon enough a faceless pair of arms fished her out of the crush and lead her gently into the building, but Gina's heart seemed to linger there in the midst of the crowd and the balmy eve and the open sky, where Taylor loved...