Memory box prepared.

Two hours and twelve minutes.

My husband held our son against his chest for two hours and twelve minutes on the evening of the fourth of March 2021, and a chaplain was there, and his mother was there, and somebody took four photographs and put them in a box.

And I was on the third floor with a tablet, being annoyed about the parking.

I want to say one thing about that two hours and twelve minutes before I move on, because it is the only place in this entire account where I have to be careful with myself.