I Made A Life-Changing Sacrifice To Help My Son. Three Days Later, He Showed Up With A Stack Of Paperwork And Told Me I Was Being Moved Into Assisted Living. I Felt Blindsided—Until His Doctor Walked Back In, Face Tight And Unusually Serious. What She Said Next Stopped Him Cold.

I used to sit at the kitchen table and stare at her chair, waiting for her to walk in with coffee and that smile that made everything feel safe. She never did. After she died, Caleb pulled away.

He stopped calling. He stopped visiting. I told myself he was grieving.

That he needed space. Space became months. Months became years.

Until two weeks ago. He showed up at my door crying, saying he was dying, saying he needed me. And for the first time in five years, I felt needed again.

Needing someone is a dangerous thing. At my age, you think you’re too old to be fooled by it. You think you can smell manipulation from a mile away.

But loneliness has a way of making you ignore the scent. Loneliness makes you hungry. Loneliness makes you take what you’re offered.

Even if the offering has teeth. On the second afternoon, they moved me out of the ICU to a regular room on the fourth floor. Smaller.

Quieter. A single bed by the window. The view was unchanged.

Snow. Gray sky. A city wrapped in winter.

A social worker came by and introduced herself as Dana. She asked if I had someone to pick me up when I was discharged. I told her my son was here.

I told her my son would take me home. Dana’s smile was polite. Her eyes were careful.

“We’ll make sure you have support,” she said. The words sounded kind. They also sounded like a backup plan.

Nurse Carol came in around three. She helped me into a chair by the window. Her hands were gentle, but her face carried the same troubled look.

Like she knew something she didn’t want to say. “Nurse Carol,” I asked. “When can I see Caleb?”

She hesitated.

Continue reading…