Let’s meet at the bakery at Bouchon in Beverly Hills tomorrow at 10, I fire off.

Here’s to hoping he’s in the mood for a chocolate croissant.

I’m prepping for my meeting with Warren by creating a test version of the app for him to try out. It doesn’t require much from the custom-coding standpoint, but it does require a second iPad. Without access to our extra stock at TIF like I had for the Voyager dinner, I need to go fishing through Decker’s stuff for his iPad, assuming it’ll still work once connected to a charging cord for a bit. So, for the second time this week, I climb up and reach for the box of Decker’s belongings. I pop off the no-longer-dusty lid and can’t help but notice the bright red folder from the bank where Decker’s life insurance benefit policy is. I probably should have done a better job of putting things back in order after I pulled out his Dodgers jersey, i.e., I should have shoved this folder to the way bottom of the box and piled everything else that’s left of his on top of it. It’s a lot easier to have a run-in with a Dodgers jersey he loved to wear than with the gateway to his life insurance policy—one of the coldest reminders he’s gone.

When I pick it up, I realize—not for the first time—that no one my age should come into a sum of money like this. A surge of cash you didn’t have the day before. It’s like the lotto—except surrounded by a lot less lucky circumstances.

I have never taken from the life insurance fund before. I’ve never really needed to. I paid off Decker’s medical bills from the profit on our house sale, and everything else—his schooling, his car, etc.—were gifts from his parents. With no debts to worry about, there certainly was a degree of temptation to spend frivolously when I suddenly came into the money after he died. When you’re dealing with an impossible kind of pain, you just never know if a new car, another dog, or a full-back tattoo will be the things needed to take the edge off. But to be honest, my only plan was always to save the money for a down payment on a house with a yard for Leno whenever I was ready to do that whole thing again. I haven’t been ready.

I take a quick inventory of where I am at nearly the five-year anniversary of Decker’s passing. I know his urn coming back threw a lot of stuff off track, but Brian Jackson may have solved the mystery of where to place him. I return to work in a week, and once I start writing code and running reports again, things will go back to normal. It’d feel good to do something philanthropic in the meantime, which reminds me that Debbie urged me to make a donation to Decker’s old fraternity. I know she can be pushy about what people should and shouldn’t do, but I don’t mind the idea of pledging something in his honor for their fund-raiser. In fact, it puts a nice bow on the crazy week I’m about to wrap up. My only question is: Is a thousand dollars appropriate?