She lit a candle at 2 am and walked the dark hallways of her home, she stared in her sons room where she saw them playing a board game, her eldest son teasing his younger brother because he did not know how to play, but the little one ignored the teases as he rolled his dice, and she walked on. Down the hall came the room of her eldest child, her daughter of age 12, she saw her daughter getting ready for bed as she brushed her looking into her pink mirror in her purple nightie , the mother smiled softly as she moved on. A little further down the hall came her husband’s study, as she glared in she saw a broken man with his bottle in hand who was lost in a photograph and was firmly falling asleep, she felt some pity and she moved on. The last door at the end of the hall was the main bedroom where she too was to sleep once more; she entered slowly and put the candle aside, lay in her bed and remembered one last thing. The day she died, she was still in this bed. The day was just like this day after saying good night to her family she fell asleep to her death only to be risen each and every single day to see her family as they aged and grew apart only to know that she was not part of it anymore.