My daughter started emptying out my life after my husband died, and when she refused to stop at my pills, my keys, and my signatures, she squeezed harder.
At the clinic, she said, “She’s clumsy…
she falls all the time.”
I slipped a folded note to a nurse with one number on it.
Claire still didn’t understand how much she was about to lose in the next 24 hours.
Her hand was on my shoulder when the doctor asked me what happened.
It was not a comforting hand.
