I came back, but Ben was gone.

I went to his grave, stood there for a while as the sun rose behind me, and walked off.

I went to the house, walked on the bloody, glass-covered porch where John had watched all his sunrises, and walked off.

I couldn’t stay there. Without Ben as an anchor, I floated around the world and back again.

Without Ben, my life had no purpose anymore. I had been entrusted to his care, and he had died. He had been in my life for almost 20 years now.

I remember the first time I met him, after I had been hired at Assisted Living.

He had been sitting quietly on his porch, facing east, watching the sun travel to it’s noon position.

And the first thing he said to me was, “I’ve never missed a sunrise.” Then he turned to look at me, and said, “Have you ever seen a sunrise?”

I was embarrassed to shake my head no, and the next day, I watched the sunrise with him. And the next.

Now, as I watched my last sunrise, a gun to my head, I cried and left for the last time, to be with Ben again.