In July 2019, my grandfather fell. At that point, I was at the height of my commercial career - touring nonstop, shooting music videos with hundreds of millions of views, and watching my social media climb faster than it ever had before. The work was there. The momentum was real. And then he fell, and I understood with complete clarity what Alzheimer’s was about to do to the timeline. I had a window of maybe a few months to make this film while he could still be part of it. If I didn’t do it then, I knew I’d spend the rest of my life knowing I had missed the chance. So I paused everything. Turned down the work. Pulled over $100,000 of my own savings - money I’m still digging myself out of - and put it into a film about a man who would no longer remember me by the time it was finished. Two and a half years of independent production followed. There were nights I sat at my computer editing footage of someone I love who no longer recognized me, just bawling. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. There was never a moment I considered quitting, that’s not in my DNA, but there were many moments where I understood exactly what I was sacrificing and chose to keep going anyway. I showed him the finished film on a laptop in his assisted living home. He didn’t recognize much by then. But when a younger version of himself appeared on screen, he looked over at me and said, “Wow, that’s a handsome guy.” He passed about a year after the film released.