Then he mentioned, once and then again, that he did not much care for one of her oldest friends.

Then another.

He never forbade anything outright, not in those early months.

He simply made each connection to her old life a small source of friction, a little tiring to maintain, until one by one my mother began making feeble excuses to avoid the people who had known and loved her for decades.

It was easier than the friction.

It was always easier.

And that, I came to understand, was precisely the point.