“Mrs. Lawson has recovered well from the fall,” he explained, glancing around the room. “But the tests show that her balance and memory are becoming unstable. It would not be safe for her to live alone anymore.”
No one spoke.
The words seemed to hang in the air like something too heavy to touch.
Finally the doctor added gently, “She needs someone with her. Someone who can help with daily tasks and make sure she’s safe.”
Margaret turned her head slightly toward her children, watching them one by one with tired eyes. She had raised all eight of them in a small brick house on Maple Street, had packed their school lunches, helped with homework, worked double shifts when money was tight, and celebrated every graduation, every birthday, every small victory that came along the way.
Now they stood around her bed in silence.
Not angry.
