We find Cecil, who is now 84 years old, alone in a giant house. Which has fallen into disrepair since Carl was admitted to a nursing home. He reads us a letter that he never got to recite to a judge, requesting guardianship of Carl and outlining hopes to bring him home, despite Carl's advanced stage of dementia. Eloquently orated, with a Southern drawl as if he never left Birmingham, Alabama, Cecil's stories bring the house back to life, to a time when Carl sat in that chair, and designed that urn out of 43 pieces of exotic wood, and changed all the light bulbs. To this day, Cecil visits Carl multiple times a week to prep him for the day and to bring him cigarettes and chocolate. Their story is not about grand gestures of love or about being gay - it is about commitment and the duties that come with it.