There was an old, soft vinyl guitar case that sat over in the corner of my father-in-law's house for as long as anyone could remember. It was covered with a telling amount of dust and cobwebs and the once vibrant brass hinges were now stained with tobacco residue.
Two feet away from the guitar case rested my father-in-law, Bruce, in a Hospice hospital bed. An 18-month battle against cancer was simply too much for even this Vietnam veteran to endure.
There were a multitude of pumps pushing oxygen and electronic medical boxes beeping; the sounds were leading up to the crescendo that was to be his final day here on Earth.
It was the Fourth of July, and everybody was weeping....