In the silent embrace of a fading twilight,  Willy Heacock sits on the park  bench, surrounded by the gentle rustle of leaves whispering secrets. Time has a way of softening the edges of sorrow, but for Willy, the shadows of the past cling like a familiar yet unwelcome shroud, warming him with memories of laughter and love, yet chilling him with the ever-present ache of loss.