"he used to write poems about me," mum says.
she's pouring her first glass of whiskey and her hands are shaking, but she doesn't feel it.
it has been proven difficult for her to feel much of anything anymore.
she's on her third glass now.
she says,
"he was so in love with me."
cut to glass number 5 and i swear to god she's crying liquor now.
she says, "i can't believe he's gone" and says "goodnight."
and gets in bed right next to him.