“Three seconds, that is all I am asking.”

“Dad is squishing me,” Jonah complained, our youngest, wriggling under his father’s arm.

“Good,” Lucas said, tightening his grip just enough to make Jonah shriek with laughter.

“Maybe that’ll keep you still for once.”

The boys laughed, their bright voices ringing across the driveway in the cool morning air, and I raised the phone and took the picture.

I still have it.

It is the last photograph that exists of the four of them, and for six years I could not look at it, and now I cannot stop.