It’s been a few months since you passed. Drinking like a fish, smoking like a chimney, blowing off work like a gust of wind, John is struggling. Hard.

He’s been reminiscing, to say the least. Gazing over old pictures, mostly.

He’s been reluctant to watch videos, especially recent ones. But he wants closure, or at least to try and close up the healing process.

Tonight, he sits at his desk, laptop open, with bourbon, as he watches a video of you as a toddler, goofing off.