We were arguing about her like she wasn’t even in the room. That’s the part that haunts me the most. My mother was sitting right there in her favorite armchair, clutching her purse, while my siblings and I stood in the kitchen, debating her fate in hushed, angry whispers.
The glossy brochure for “Silver Oaks Assisted Living” lay on the counter. $7,500 a month. Not covered by insurance.
“I can’t take her,” my brother said, checking his smartwatch. He’s a VP at a tech firm in Seattle. “We just remodeled the house, and with the kids’ travel soccer schedule, there’s literally no room.”
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