Tara was crying as I walked into her room. Alright, we were both crying.
“Dammit!” She screamed and threw the remote across the room, knocking over a glass cat. Her brother, my son, Jacob had collapsed and died suddenly while playing ball the week before.
We cried in each others arms, as she held the useless remote. “That’s what we need, Mom,” she sniffled, “a re-do, a reset. It seems everything has one these days.”
Even now, when she sees me holding his photo, crying, she will whisper, “Mom, there just isn’t a “reset” for loosing some one you love.”