He stepped out into the dimly lit hallway of his run down New York City apartment and shut the door swiftly behind him. It didn't even give him the satisfaction of a slam, the carpet beneath, catching it before it could make any sort of noise at all.

He didn't bother to lock up this night -- it wasn't necessary.

Nothing was really necessary anymore.

He felt as if the walls were closing in around him and the only thing he could do to escape the feeling was this. The bright flourescent lights which typically showered the hallways with warm glow, had gone out at some point during this latest snowstorm, and though they should have come on with the backup generators, instead they taunted him with their flickers of indecisiveness.

The darkness of the night outside crept into his tired body and slowly began taking over, as if it were seeping slowly through his bloodstream, poisoning him minute by minute with the feeling of exhaustion. It took over his thoughts... his feelings... his emotions. It took over his every move and made him feel as if he were moving slowly in a world with too little air to breathe.

He took to the stairs painfully, one stair at a time, one step at a time. He'd only made it ten floors before he needed to sit down and rest. On a normal day he could have jogged down those same stairs, all 22 flights, without a second thought and still he would have had energy left to go jogging after he'd reached the bottom.

On a normal day.

But this was not a normal day and he was not up for long flights of stairs or a brisk evening jog this night. The sheer thought of having to keep breathing seemed too much for him to bare. He stood once more to continue his trek, 'one step at a time,' he kept reminding himself even as his steps faltered and he had to sit down once again.

Why, after all the thought he'd put into this, was it turning out to be so damn hard?

His thoughts raced as he finally reached the last flight of stairs, knowing that the lobby stood behind the door at the bottom. He'd finally reached this one destination after what seemed like the longest, most painful journey of his entire life -- and yet he knew this was just the beginning. The journey wasn't going to end until he ended it. He turned and stared back towards the door to the stairs from which he'd just come... the pain wouldn't leave until he left it all behind.

His thoughts raced back over the weeks leading up to these moments. As he stood there in the center of a nearly empty lobby, it's ugly red carpet and wooden paneled walls with the pictures of old men hanging in a row that appeared to be watching his every move, it was hard to imagine that any of this was even real. There was that strange statue of some sort of elf-like creature on the ground near the elevator, holding what looked to be the world on it's shoulders and he thought to himself, "I know how that feels." There were a few large plants scattered about, the only source of life in the dingy, dark old place. The security desk in the corner by the door where the guard was typically seated eating a meal out of a take out box from whatever restaurant he'd ordered that night, stood empty. He took one last glance around the lobby. This place had been his escape from the world for two months now. He hadn't had to think about fortune or fame here... hadn't had to think about being a Backstreet Boy or a not-so-successful solo artist. Hadn't had to think of his failed marriage or what a crappy father he knew he was going to be in about 6 months... even she had agreed with him on that one. He hadn't had to think about drugs or alcohol, rehab or sobriety. He hadn't had to think about life at all here.

Not at all.

He'd been able to sit on his bed alone and write songs and listen to music and watch tv and not think about all of those things. In fact, he'd gotten damn good at not thinking at all. At becoming numb to his emotions when the need arose... he'd learned that from all the years of watching Nick do the same.

It was amazing, he thought, how your best friends always seemed to disappear when you needed them most. Where had the phonecalls been? The search parties? Where was his ex-wife... the soon-to-be mother of his child?

Where were the three guys who were supposed to be his best friends?

He stared at the double glass doors that led out into the night. His only escape now. An escape from hell, from pain... from this life. He took a deep breath as he headed for the doors. This was the only path to freedom that he could think of... it was now or never and he knew he had to take it.

He stood on the street corner outside his apartment building for several long minutes. Just stood there watching the world around him and soaking it all in as the moments slowly passed him by. The moments had been passing this way for him for months now. Slowly, miserably, agonizingly, painfully... that was at least until the numbness had set in.

The cold air of the New York City winter rushed over his body... cold enough to freeze the ordinary citizens right back inside. Back into the safe haven of their homes and hotels and businesses, leaving the streets completely void of what everyone perceived to be the night life in this grand and busy city. Tonight the grand and busy city seemed more dull and lonely but he couldn't feel the icy sting of the cold air. Not like those others. Not anymore.

He couldn't feel anything anymore.

The numbness had completely taken over days ago, allowing his body a quiet retreat from the agony of the life he planned on leaving behind. All he felt now was exhaustion... exhaustion and eagerness to get this over with.

He watched as several cars rolled past. Watched for that familiar yellow color that signaled the advance of a potential escort. His escort to the end of it all. It seemed to last an eternity, his standing there on that corner in the cold and the snow... it was snowing too but even the beautiful wonder of the falling snow -- which he'd once adored so much he'd pulled Brian out of bed in the middle of the night to build a snowman with him -- couldn't pull his heart away from the numbness it felt. Years ago maybe... back when he had something to live for, maybe then he would have seen this as something special... a sign from God. Now it meant absolutely nothing but another cold snowy, lonely night in NYC.

Finally he saw the headlights coming down the road, the beams reflecting off the patches of ice on one of the few unsalted streets in the city... one of those left behind. He knew when he'd choosen this apartment building, in this part of town, on this street that he was choosing somewhere no one would expect him to go. That's why he decided the moment he walked in that door and saw the ugly carpeting and the paneled walls and shook hands with the friendly security guard, that it was the place he'd been needing all along. A place to settle things... to prepare. He'd never dreamed it would take two months. Never dreamed he'd come to know this place as 'home'.

He raised his hand slightly and the taxi pulled up to the curb alongside him. A young man, probably no older than 25 sat in the driver's seat, wearing a baseball cap and bopping his head along to Pink Floyd... the familiar lyrics echoed in his mind as he climbed into the backseat and the driver nodded at him in the rearview mirror...

Comfortably numb. But not so much. There was nothing comforting about the numbness he felt deep inside. It was probably the most uncomfortable feeling he'd ever known... second to despair. He sat in silence for a moment, taking in the lyrics and sighing deeply... "The child is grown, the dream is gone." Nothing could more accurately describe his existence in this world now.

"Where to?"

The voice of the driver, the young blonde in the front seat that reminded Aj so much of Nick it wasn't even funny -- even if he knew there wasn't the slightest possibility it could be Nick -- pulled him from his thoughts and snapped him back to the harsh realities of the cold and cruel world. 'Where to?' Such a simple question and yet, no easy answer.

"Brooklyn." He answered quietly handing the young man some cash, "the bridge."

The look on his face, the doubt he expressed in that one moment where their eyes connected in that mirror made him want to open the door and run back into the apartment. He couldn't chicken out though. He'd done that too many times before. He had to go through with it this time. He had to.

"You sure?" the young man asked as he pulled slowly away from the curb and headed for the end of the street. "Brooklyn isn't a place most people care to hang out at night."

Aj simply nodded. He had no choice but to be sure.

He stared silently out the window at the city as the driver steered the cab in the direction of the Brooklyn Bridge and rambled on aimlessly about things Aj wasn't in the mood to listen to. An entire conversation that left him longing for the quiet solitude of his apartment once more. Each passing minute, each passing second left a chance for him to doubt his decision and that was something he wanted to do. No more doubting. No more fear.

He'd rather feel numb than unsure.

He looked down at the wallet he was holding in his hands. He knew he wouldn't be needing it anymore but he also knew it would be foolish to leave it behind. He didn't want to leave a trail of information pointing to where he'd gone or what he'd done.

'Just disappear,' he'd told himself repeatedly as the days had worn on, 'just disappear without a trace... it's not like they'll notice you're gone.'

He went to shove the wallet into his jacket pocket but stopped instead when he noticed the corner of a photograph hanging carelessly from the edge. It was one of the photographs he'd grabbed from his album the evening he'd quickly packed and fled from his home.

That day had been crazy... painful and crazy and all he'd wanted to do was get the hell as far away from everything as he could. He remembered grabbing a plastic grocery sack from the pantry and stuffing a pair of ratty blue jeans and an old t-shirt inside, along with a clean pair of underwear and socks. He'd only planned on being gone for a day or two. Funny how a day or two had turned into weeks and then months... and now... forever.

He remembered grabbing the photo album and selecting the five random photos, tugging them quickly from their protective pockets and stuffing them in his wallet as he ran down the stairs and out the door without even grabbing his cell phone or his ipod. He had money... he could buy new ones.

He remembered the cab pulling up in front of the house and he remembered jumping in and telling the driver, an older foreign man with one gold tooth, to drive him wherever the hell he felt like. He'd somehow ended up at the airport and from there he ended up in New York and he'd found that apartment and he'd stayed there for two long months.

He stared down at the wallet in his lap, brown and worn looking, a gift from his mother, the picture jutting out the edge, taunting for him to open up and take a look. He did... for the first time in two months.

The first photo, a snapshot of him and his mother a year before at his birthday party. They were both smiling... both happy. She was the only person in the world he ever felt really loved him. But isn't that what they say... "Your mother's the only woman who will ever really love you." Unconditional love that couldn't be helped. She was certainly the only one he'd really miss. The only one he'd regret not calling to say 'goodbye.'

The second photo, his best friend Howie, back in the good ole days. The two of them were getting into trouble the way they always did back then... back when things were fun. Back when they were young and carefree. Back before the drugs and alcohol... the pain. They were bowling and Howie had come up behind him and grabbed the ball from him in mid-swing. He was laughing, Howie was laughing... that was fun he hadn't known in years.

The third photo was one from his wedding night 2 years earlier. The night he thought he'd remember forever as the happiest night of his life. The night that should have lead to a lifetime of love and happiness but instead lead to anger and hatred, hurt and loss of trust. "We're having a baby Aj"... she said, and in the same breath... "we're over." How they'd ended up the way they had he'd never know. He dreamed of being a father... of proving he could be the kind of man his father never was. Now he'd never get that chance.

The fourth photo -- a group shot from a charity golf game in Kentucky only 6 months before. Brian, Kevin, Howie and himself. Someone noticably missing. Always noticably missing now. The smiles seemed fake. They all stood inches apart. No arms around each other's shoulders, no bunny ears, no fun. Brian leaned on his club. Kevin held his hand up to his eyes to block the harsh rays of sun. Howie had his hands in his pockets. Aj was holding a bottle of beer... and no one had tried to stop him.

Everything was different now. Everything was painful.

Tears filled his eyes as he flipped to the final photo. Him and Nick. Sitting on the dock outside of Nick's home in Florida. They had their feet in the water, arms stuck back behind them propping them up. He remembered the cool breeze blowing through their hair. He'd stayed with Nick for a week then, needing to get away from his wife for a while. Needing some time alone. It was the last picture ever taken of the two of them... the last picture ever taken of Nick.

He remembered the phone call in the middle of the night... he remembered the voice on the other end of the line, one of his best friend's voices, filled with pain and sorrow...

"Aje... it's Howie."

He remembered the words that had been spoken then... words that could never be taken back. Words that would forever change them all, and not in a good way.

"It's Nick Aje. He was in an accident... he's gone."

He remembered the disbelief and then the pain... and then the numbness.

He felt the same numbness now as the grew closer to the bridge. How had his life come down to this? How had he sunk so low in despair that he couldn't find a way to climb back up. Rock bottom hurt... but he'd been there before and he'd found the air. This was lower than rock bottom though... this was buried six feet under rock bottom with no bell to ring to let them know you're still alive.

The old man shifted around slowly in his spot there at the end of the Brooklyn Bridge, trying to find a comfortable position... trying to find a spot where he could lay his head to rest. He'd come to know this place over the past few years. He'd sit there at night beneath his makeshift shelter -- a large cardboard refrigerator box he'd found outside of an apartment building a few blocks away -- and watch as the cars passed quickly by. They were always in a rush to get somewhere. There was never anywhere for him to be going.

It was particularly frigid this evening, and he shivered violently as he pulled the one blanket he owned up around his freezing body. He'd piled newspapers beneath him on the frozen ground as a means to protect himself from the icy, frostbitten dirt, but nothing could keep out this kind of cold.

He watched as a car slowly approached, it's headlights glowing a brilliant yellow against the dark sky. It darted by and headed off across the bridge in the direction of another place, the tires sending up a slushy spray of dirty snow as they sped along the road.

He could see the snow falling in the street lights, falling steadily now, and he knew it was going to be another long night. He was used to it by now though. Used to sitting in the cold, watching the snow fall around him and watching as cars passed by through the darkness and the loneliness that had become his life. The slow and steady traffic of the city that never stopped for anyone at all. It had to be past midnight now, the traffic had slowed considerably over the past several hours and he new that it would be sparse on a night like this.

He eyed another approaching car, prepared for it to pass over the bridge and vanish into the night. Unexpectedly though, this one stopped. It shuddered to a halt on the other side of the road, across from where he sat huddled beneath his box. It was a taxi, he could tell by the lights on top... the rest of the car was covered in a blanket of snow. The door opened slowly and a young man stepped out, leaning back briefly to hand the driver a wad of cash before closing the door behind him.

He watched as the taxi pulled away and the young passenger turned towards the Brooklyn Bridge. The man looked young... too young to be out here on the bridge in the middle of a night like this. Too innocent to be out here for the reasons the old man suspected.

He'd seen it before in his years by this bridge. Quite a few times actually. Some men, some women, some old and some young... all stressed out and depressed over something in their lives and looking for a way to end their frustrations. Luckily it had ended the same way each time. He'd watched them stomp out onto the bridge, determination ripe on their faces, anger showing through in the way they trampled out across the road and up onto the sidewalk dividing the street from the railing that over looked the river. He'd watch them peer over and take in the rushing water beneath them and one by one they would seem to calm down. They would stand there for a few minutes... maybe longer. Some would sit down on the ground and cry. Others would throw things over the edge. But they would all eventually come to the same conclusion, turning around at some point and walking right back in the direction from wince they came.

He'd never known their stories... he didn't need to know. Everyone had a story, just like him. He only watched on as these individuals rushed across the bridge, thoughts of doing something rash stuck in their minds. He knew what they didn't though. That their thoughts were spur of the moment... never contemplated. He knew... always knew that they didn't really mean it.

He remembered reading Winnie the Pooh to his son when he was a younger man, the same quote always striking him, but he never understood why.

He believed that now, having lived by this bridge above this river for 3 years. He'd watched so many people step out onto that bridge and stare down into the water as if they'd find the answer to some unknown question below in the tide. He'd done it himself once or twice... maybe more, when he was lost and desperate. He hadn't found the answers he'd been looking for, at least not all at once, but he'd certainly come to peace with his life. Come to peace with the man he'd become and if the river could do that for him then he believed it could do that for anyone.

He watched as the young man shuffled his way out onto the bridge, edging his way silently, slowly towards the railing. There was something different about this one. Something he hadn't seen in those other individuals. There was a lack of determination... a lack of anger and frustration. No stomping across the road, no begging God for answers, no throwing his hands up in the air as he walked along. This man seemed lost and desperate. He seemed honestly ready to end it all.

He walked along, his shoulders slumped, his eyes staring down at the ground below him. He didn't glance up when the old man stood and stepped out of his shelter. He didn't even flinch when he coughed to let him know of his presence. He just slowly ambled his way to the side of the road and up onto the sidewalk, standing at the rail of the bridge, leaning over and looking into the unknown.

The old man had never before interfered with the silent affairs of the people on the bridge. He'd never before felt the need. Now was a different story. He approached Aj and coughed again, watching as the young man slowly turned his head to look towards him. Aj didn't smile, didn't nod, didn't move or blink. He simply reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, opening it slowly he pulled out a wad of cash and thrust it towards him with a shrug.

The old man sighed, his face fell. So this was what the young man thought of him. He was just a homeless begger on a bridge come to rob him of his last bit of money before he died.

But that wasn't him...

That wasn't him at all.

He refused the money shoving Aj's hand away and looking him in the eye. He frowned, glancing silently at the young man's appearance. He wore ratty old jeans and a black denim jacket with a t-shirt underneath. Converse sneakers and a skull cap on his head. Attire far too cold for a night like this. He looked down at his own appearance... sweatpants with holes in the knees, a flannel shirt and a warm winter coat he'd been lucky enough to find at the Goodwill. Upon first glance they weren't so different, but he knew better. That wad of cash the young man pulled from his pocket. He knew that they were very different.

He felt ashamed. Ashamed that someone in the young man's position would offer his money to a homeless man on the street. Ashamed he'd ever been put in a position like this.

"You know," he said with a sigh, feeling still ashamed and slightly helpless as he leaned over the rail next to Aj and watched as the water drifted aimlessly by below... "I haven't always been this way."

"I haven't always been this way..."

He could do nothing but stare out across the East River and wonder what the old man was trying to tell him. He didn't need know...didn't care. He didn't want to deal with this right now when he'd worked every thing out in his mind so perfectly.

He'd had every intention of walking straight out onto this bridge, heaving himself onto the railing and throwing himself directly into the icy waters below. The fall alone would kill him, he was sure of it. He would never even have a chance to feel the stinging pain of the frigid waters because the fall alone would do him in.

He'd had every intention of getting it over with before his mind could come up with a reason not to. He'd had every intention of doing this thing now... right now. He certainly didn't need this homeless man standing beside him to come up with a reason for him not to do this right now.

He didn't want to think about it anymore. He was ready. Just do it. Just go.

He put his foot slowly upon the bottom rail and closed his eyes. He lifted himself so that his other foot came up as well. He could feel the cold winter air blowing wildly around him now. He could feel the snowflakes... more like tiny snowballs in a blizzard... pelting his forehead and nose. He'd never felt so alive, and so dead at the same time. He felt a sense of relief and sense of excitement, a sense of readiness and yet... that same numbness he'd been feeling for so long... he was feeling that too. He felt it would be good to die not feeling. It would be good to die not giving a damn.

"I haven't always been this way."

The old man repeated his line once more, a whisper in the wind, like he was telling it to the night air more than to Aj. Aj couldn't help but hear though... couldn't help but listen and wonder what the old man meant by his words. For a brief moment his thoughts went from the task at hand to how the old guy had ended up alone on this bridge living under a cardboard box. For a moment his eyes focused on the old man who was still staring out across the water as if looking for an answer to some long forgotten question. Aj stared for a moments as the man sighed and leaned forward, pulling his heavy winter coat around his tired body as he turned to face him.

"I've had my moments you know."

Aj couldn't help but glance at him questioningly. "Had his moments...", he couldn't help but wonder what that meant. Maybe this old man just needed someone to listen. Maybe he was in the same boat as Aj. Maybe he felt the numbness too. He pulled one foot down off the rail and leaned heavily there with his body looking at the man questioningly, waiting for him to go on... waiting for him to spill his guts, or beg him to stop, or tell him a story. Maybe it was the least he could do before he took the final leap.

The old man looked back and nodded. "I remember," he began, "one of the greatest days of my life... I was 23 years old and I was on a plane coming back from the Vietnam war."

Aj nodded... he couldn't imagine what war would be like... he wouldn't want to try. It was bad enough having to leave his family behind to go on tours for months at a time, he couldn't imagine the whole idea of having to live and breathe a warzone for as long... if not longer.

"I'd been over there so long and I'd seen so much," the man continued, a somber look of rememberance crossing his face. "I'd felt so much... feared so much. But I knew that coming back meant home and family. It meant being with my wife and going back to working on the farm. I couldn't wait to get off that plane and lift her in my arms." Aj nodded, knowing that feeling. The feeling of returning even if it wasn't ever quite the same. "We were heroes... at least, that's what the government told us. We were heroes and both our families and our country were so damned proud of us."

Aj pulled his other foot down off the rail and leaned his back against it as the man went on.

"I remember arriving at the airport and going through the long hours of debriefing. I remember holding my breath and waiting for what felt like forever for them to tell us that we could go home. But mostly I remember the look on her face when she saw me for the first time. I remember how she felt in my arms... how her hair smelled... how she'd brought me an ice cold Coca Cola just because she knew how much I missed it. That was a moment you see... a moment when life was amazing and when nothing in the world mattered but right then and that moment made every other moment in my life worth living. All those months away and all those things I'd seen. I'd do it again for that sort of moment."

Aj wasn't sure exactly why the man was sharing this, but he knew that the stories were starting to make him think about things and he knew that thinking was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn't want to think about how much he'd loved his wife and how much she'd ended up hating him. He didn't want to think about how right now he was missing and she wasn't even looking. About how she didn't seem to care.

"Then the day my son was born," the old man continued, a nostalgic smile crossing his face, "that was the greatest day of my life."

Aj sunk down to the ground, seated there by the bridge, leaning back and letting the cold snow soak his jeans. He didn't care though, he couldn't feel it... couldn't feel anything. He stared at the man, stared and listened. Maybe he could do this one last favor before he gave up. Maybe this was something he was supposed to do.

"My wife was so strong... so brave... so beautiful that day. I remember holding her hand for nearly 52 hours. 52 long, painful hours. I remember when the doctor shouted 'It's a boy!' and I remember hearing him cry for the first time. I don't think I've ever heard a more beautiful sound in my entire life. I remember watching as they carried him to the table and weighed him and then as they brought him over and laid him on my wife's chest. I remember thinking how amazing life was and how lucky I was and how beautiful he was. I remember spending the next 2 days just staring at him. I remember choosing his name, Michael, after one of my fellow soldiers I'd met in the war. I remember believing he would grow up to do incredible things."

Aj couldn't take his eyes away from the man now. He wanted that feeling. He wanted to be a good husband... to be there to hold her hand through hours of labor and days in the hospital. He wanted to be a good father. He wanted to help name his son and be the first to hold him and love him and believe that he was going to grow up to be someone special. He wanted to be there to watch him grow up.

He rubbed his eyes vigorously with his hands. No. He couldn't think about it. They would all be better off without him. His wife, his son, his friends. They would all be better off if he just ended it all. "You'll make a shitty father." That's what she'd said... "you're already a shitty husband."

"Those moments... as far away as they seem now... make living worthwhile," the old man continued, a smile appearing on his face once more. "Without those moments I would be nothing. Without those moments... I would have no reason to live."

Joe turned and looked to where Aj was huddled there on the cold earth beside him. He watched closely for any sign of comfort or realization, hoping beyond all hope that the young man had experienced his own 'moments', in his own life. The he had his own reasons to live. He watched Aj's facial expressions for any sign of relief as he stared out across the water... but he saw none. He saw only the same lost desperation that had been there minutes before. A thoughtful look in his eyes perhaps, but still a hopelesseness that hadn't been eased.

Joe unfolded his hands and slowly felt for the worn out old wallet he carried around in his coat pocket. Of all the things he'd lost in the world, this was the one thing he'd never be able to live without. He pulled it slowly out and opened it carefully, eyeing the young man who had turned to watch him.

"Pictures," he whispered as he flipped through the photos with a sigh, smiling at the memories that lay stretced out before him, "to remind me of the moments."

He held out the first photo for him to see and Aj scooted a little bit closer to him on the icy ground. The wind rushed over the bridge and howled around them, but for whatever reason, sitting here beside this young man, trying to save his life, he couldn't feel the cold so much anymore. He had a strange warmth throughout his body that felt calming and wonderful. The simple idea that he was helping another human being perhaps... doing something bigger than himself.

The photo was a worn out, sienna colored picture of three men in army fatigues, Joe in the middle. They were standing side-by-side, smiles plastered to their faces looking happy... content. Each holding up a beer in one hand while the other was wrapped around the shoulder of the man beside him. They looked like best friends.

"My army buddies over in Vietnam," he explained handing the photo to Aj for a closer look. "That's Michael there," he pointed to the young blonde standing on his righthand side in the photo, "but we called him 'Gus', and that," he said pointing to the man on his left, is my brother, James."

"You guys look so happy."

It was the first time the young man spoke and it almost suprised Joe to hear his voice, low and chokey... unsure.

"We were..." he responded, his own voice echoing back a similar emotion, "We'd just found out we were going home in two days, and we thought we were going home heroes."

He smiled slightly, the nostalgia of the day returning to him for a moment's time. He'd remembered how happy the three of them had been. Excited to be getting out of that God foresaken land. Excited to be going home to their family and friends as heroes. Because that's what they truly believed. He looked at the young man again, watching as he stared at the photo in his hands he could see the expression on his face becoming thoughtful too.

Joe handed Aj the second photo. It was a black and white portrait of a young man and a beautiful young woman. He was standing behind her, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, their hands brought together in a warm interlocked embrace, and he was kissing her neck.

"My wife," he said smiling even bigger than he had after showing the last photo, "my beautiful Margaret."

Joe remembered the day they met, his freshman year of high school in the hallway. She'd ignored him when he'd asked if she'd like to go out on a date. He'd had to ask her at least a dozen more times before she'd finally given in. He always said he knew the moment they met that they were meant to be together. She always said it took a few dates. She made him smile when no one else could. She made him laugh. She helped him through so many rough times in life that he owed his very existence to her. He looked to the heavens and silently wondered if she knew that even in her death she could still bring him comfort.

"She was beautiful," Aj said as he handed the photo back and stared back out across the water.

Then Joe pulled out the final photos. It was one of those flip things that opens up and shows about ten different pictures. He flipped it open and handed it to Aj who Joe could tell took it only to satisfy his need to show them.

"My son."

There were ten photos there, beginning with a photo of a tiny baby, wrapped in his hospital blanket and cradled in the man's arms, and ending with a photo of a handsome young man in military fatigues. He watched as Aj studied the photos closely. A tear rolled down the young man's cheeks and he knew... silently knew that he was somehow getting through. That he was somehow making a difference.

He wouldn't tell Aj how these moments had ended. Wouldn't share how his best friend had been killed the day after that first photo had been taken. A day short of being able to come home from Vietnam. He wouldn't share how when the rest of them finally did come home from the war, they felt like anything but heroes. How he'd realized when they returned to the United States, that their 'war' was a failure and that most people thought they were too. He didn't tell Aj how he'd suffered painful flashbacks and illnesses because of his time spent there and how it had nearly cost him his life and his marriage. No... he wouldn't share any of that.

Nor would he share that his beautiful wife had suffered for 5 long and painful years from breast cancer that ultimately took her life when she was only 35 years old.

And he wouldn't share that his son... the one and only thing he'd had left in the entire world... had joined the military at 18 years of age and had given his life for the same country he himself had defended years before.

He would never forget looking out his window that day as the military vehicle pulled up in front of his home. He knew why they were coming... he knew before they even knocked on the door. That was the moment his world crumbled. The moment his life fell apart.

He'd found himself here, three years ago, standing on this same old bridge, staring out across this same water contimplating ending his own life. He'd wanted to make the jump himself. He'd wanted to end it all right here. But someone had stopped him. An old man talking about his life and his memories... his good times... his 'moments'.

Now it was Joe's turn.

He watched as Aj handed back the photos and wiped the tears from his eyes. He hoped he'd gotten through. He hoped he'd done his job. He hoped that he had helped someone the same way he'd been helped so long ago.

"Think about your moments..." he whispered as he laid his hand on the young man's shoulder, "LIVE for your moments."