There was nothing more to say. His words landed hard, and for once, they had no reply.
Then he added firmly, “You owe him an apology. A real one.”
Then, finally, they called my father. Janet spoke first, her tone stiff. “We’re sorry for how things went.
It wasn’t right.”
Bob muttered a few words that barely passed for an apology. My father thanked them but didn’t say much else. He had already moved on.
There was nothing left to dwell on, no bitterness to carry. He had made his choice and found his peace. Now, my father sleeps peacefully.
Alone. In his space. And the moving van?
Just a prank. He had help from a family friend who worked with the company. No one was really going to a nursing home.
Today, my father lives in a quiet one-bedroom with an elevator and a garden terrace. Just right for him.
