It was an old voice recorder, the one our mom used to use. Daniel had been listening to it every night, playing the last message she ever recorded for him. In it, she told him to be strong, to take care of us, and that no one could ever replace her. That’s why he couldn’t say “mom” to anyone else, because to him, that word still belonged to her. My dad sat down next to him and didn’t try to correct him this time. He just listened. That moment didn’t fix everything, but it made us understand him. Some things don’t get replaced… they just stay with you.
