My daughter-in-law laughed as she gave me a $2 scratch-off for my 73rd birthday. Ten months later, my own son shoved a senior living brochure in front of me and said, “We already picked your room.” They thought I was too old to fight back. They had no idea what I had been hiding.

Vance.

Colin gripped the edge of the counter.

“How?” he whispered.

I had spent ten months imagining this moment.

Strangely, now that it was here, I felt no triumph.

I felt tired.

I felt relieved.

And beneath both feelings was a grief that had been accumulating quietly in me for years.