My Son Sent Me to a Nursing Home Until He Realized I Was Never Coming Back

think it matters. I was not naive, exactly. I had simply spent my whole life loving these boys, and love makes you willing to accept the version of things that hurts least.

My bedroom was at the end of the upstairs hallway, a good room with a window that caught the morning. I kept Frank’s photograph on the dresser, the one from the lake where he is continue reading …