We rearranged our lives.
Daniel installed appropriate safety devices, and I moved into my mother’s house temporarily while we organized reliable nighttime supervision and professional support.
Other mornings, she called Daniel by my father’s name.
But he never corrected her harshly.
Instead, he would smile and say, “Good morning, Grandma. I’m Daniel. I’m right here.”
One evening, I found him sitting beside her, holding the same black bag.
This time, she wasn’t crying.
They were looking at photographs from her wedding.
“That’s me,” she said proudly, pointing at the young bride.
“You were beautiful,” Daniel replied.
She looked at him and smiled.
“You’re such a kind young man. Do I know you?”
