The check

Today's the day I have to deposit it.

You know how financial advisers harp on life insurance? As in, Mr. Geddy, how would your wife and children be able to make it without your salary if something happened to you, so you need to take out a $1 million policy (so we can make a bundle off the commission, which is the part they don't actually say). But nobody sells a product to fill the gaping hole in your life when someone you love dies.

And now I have this incredibly large check, made out to me, to go toward my children's future education courtesy of Uncle Ben. Or more correctly, courtesy of Uncle Ben's death in a wreck seven months ago. I should be thankful, and I am trying.

But it's hard.

'Cause I'd way rather have my brother.

Geddy says, "If I had the choice between a million dollars and my mom and Ben back, you know which I'd choose. But, B, we don't have that choice."

I know that, in my head where common sense resides. But in my heart, where my brother lives, I still hurt.

And they don't sell a product for that either.