Seven Years After My Daughter’s Funeral, I Followed Her Husband to a Rehabilitation Center—And Saw a Woman I Thought Was Dead
“I need you to understand that she may not remember everything.
She can end the conversation whenever she wishes.”
I nodded.
Dr.
Foster opened the family-room door.
The room had two sofas, a low table, and a shelf filled with board games.
A woman in a blue cardigan sat near the window with a paper cup resting beside her.
She had her hands folded in her lap.