First came grainy footage of Dad playing guitar in a crowded rehearsal garage.

Mom appeared at the edge of the frame, dancing with a paper cup in her hand.

Frank was behind a drum set, grinning at the camera.

Another man yelled that they were late for soundcheck.

Then the image changed.

Dad appeared in the very chair where I was sitting, thinner than I remembered, wearing a gray sweatshirt and holding his hands together.