Ethan hadn’t asked for a spectacle; he’d orchestrated an intervention. When our “league” from the hospital marched into the stadium carrying his battered tabletop football game, he forced our two worlds to collide: the life we were losing and the one we were still pretending to live. In that cramped family room, away from the roar of the crowd, he finally told us the truth we’d been too afraid to face. Our reverence, our constant documenting, had turned his remaining time into a museum exhibit.