No sum on earth could buy back a single quiet morning with Jonathan.

It could not bring Samuel running down the hallway with his shoes untied.

It could not sit and listen to Charlotte narrate the elaborate private lives of her toys.

Eighteen point seven million dollars could not purchase one more of the ordinary moments I had not known to treasure, and against the size of what I had lost, it was nothing, less than nothing, a pile of paper.

But it could do one thing.