She told me once, tears in her eyes, “I haven’t felt this alive in twenty years.” Then her children found out. Dorothy’s daughter Sarah called me. Demanded to know what was going on. Why was a “criminal” spending time with her mother? Was he stealing from her? Taking advantage of her?
I told Sarah the truth. Her mother was happier than she’d been in years. Dorothy was eating better. Moving more. Laughing. Living. Sarah didn’t care. “She’s not thinking clearly. The Parkinson’s affects her judgment. We’re going to stop this.”
The family showed up two weeks later. All three children. They barged into Dorothy’s apartment while Michael was there. Started yelling. Accusing him of elder abuse. Financial exploitation. Manipulation.
Dorothy stood up from her chair. Actually stood up, which she rarely did anymore. “Get out of my house.” Sarah tried to take her mother’s hand. “Mom, we’re trying to protect you. This man is dangerous.”
“This man,” Dorothy said, her voice shaking with rage, “has been here every single day for two months. Where have you been? Christmas? Thanksgiving? My birthday?” She pointed at Michael. “He was here. He’s always here. And you dare call him dangerous?”
Her son Robert stepped forward. “Mom, look at him. The tattoos. The gang vest. He’s obviously using you.” Michael stayed quiet. Didn’t defend himself. Just stood there with his head down.
Dorothy walked over to Michael. Took his hand. “This man carried me up four flights of stairs when I was freezing on a bench. He bathes me when I can’t do it myself. He feeds me. Talks to me. Makes me laugh.” She was crying now. “He treats me like I matter. When was the last time any of you made me feel like I mattered?”
The room went silent. Sarah tried again. “Mom, we’re going to petition the court to assess your competency. For your own safety.”
“Do it,” Dorothy said. “Let a judge meet Michael. Let them see what you clearly can’t. That I chose someone who actually cares about me over the parade of strangers you’ve been paying to warehouse me until I die.”
Her children left. Threatened legal action. Told Dorothy she was making a mistake. Michael waited until they were gone, then sat down on the couch. He put his head in his hands.
