On New Year’s Eve, my daughter-in-law announced, “We’re putting you in a nursing home. You don’t have a role here anymore. That’s the decision,” so I quietly packed a small bag and left; at the bus station I couldn’t stop crying, and when a young woman asked if I was okay, I told her everything—then she made a call and said, “Dad, I found her. Yes, I’m sure.”
I stood in the doorway of what had been my bedroom for the past twelve years, in our suburban house…