The Martins called it “cider o’clock.” Every night at precisely 8 p.m., eight-year-old Griffin would wait for a mug of warm apple cider, complete with a cinnamon stick. Sometimes he'd change it up: on Tuesdays, it had to be tea; on Fridays, hot chocolate. It was the ritual, not the drink, that was important. Griffin liked his drink heated up in the microwave for exactly one minute and 30 seconds, then poured into his favourite mug, the one with a knight on it. Then he’d settle into his spot on the right side of the couch, place his mug on the little side table and start sketching tiny, intricate drawings of medieval characters, skulls and sword fights. His 12-year-old sister Rowan was always nearby, watching TV or finishing her homework.

When it was time for bed, Damien Martin would carry his son upstairs for storytime. Before Griffin shut his eyes, he’d make his dad tell him everything about his day. Andrea Martin would open the bedroom door a crack and blow her son a kiss, and Griffin would pretend to catch it. Then she’d wrap her arms around herself to make a hugging gesture and say good night. That, too, was part of the ritual. Then one day in late February 2017, Griffin’s heart stopped while he was at school, and Damien and Andrea’s world changed forever. “That routine was part of the daily rhythm of our lives, and without it we felt untethered,” Damien said. "The best way I can describe it is an amputation of the soul,” Andrea added. “I'm not the same person. I never will be the same person as I was before. You have to completely rebuild your identity.” Seven months later, mystery still surrounds Griffin’s death. He was after all a normal, active boy with no known health issues. The autopsy offered no clues, and the family is still waiting for results of genetic testing that could reveal a pre-existing heart condition.