Sarah was the family's singular constant. Even after all that had changed in the past years, she remained the same. She was strong and soft, cold and loving. She flipped from side to side based on the needs of others, never on her own.
Kate, she is slowly okay. They no longer have to worry about her every move. It is a relief, but no one noticed. It matters, of course, but good news pales in comparison to bad news. That has always been the case in their family. And so, Sarah holds her daughter when she cried over Anna, and left her own emotions alone until she was in their bedroom.
Brian, he and Jesse have changed lives. Jesse, he is suddenly an angel. He takes care of things, and saves his tears for solitude, just like his mother. They were always alike, after all. And Brian… he is a cause that is forgotten, for the moment. They cannot deal with him, and they have learned that they cannot make him feel better. For the first time, it is Jesse who is the better man than his father.
But, as Sarah cries, alone on her bed, for the hundredth time, she realizes that truth. She is no more a constant than they are. Consistency; that was Anna's job. The fact that anyone noticed her motherly brand of predictability; it shows how shattered they are.
Everything has switched. Kate is concrete; she is not going anywhere. Anna's consummate presence is absent, the family's last thread of optimism gone with her life. They have switched positions, and it has thrown the family into confusion. Brian is no longer the family's rock. He has fallen apart, and with him has fallen the family's stability. Jesse is no longer flaky, he is sturdy and present and someone to lean on. Sarah is unbelievably grateful for it, although she regrets that fact that once again, she cannot be there for him.
But then again, she is the constant. While all else changes, she remains herself. She leads the home, her brokenness shabbily secret. Their cruelly shifting world; for all her faults, Sarah has not been a part of the changes.