in the morning asking why his wife hadn’t returned from the store.
Another time he left the stove on.
Then he got lost driving to a grocery store he had visited for thirty years.
A stranger found him sitting in a gas-station parking lot, confused and terrified.
The diagnosis was dementia.
It progressed quickly.
Lisa lived across the country and said she couldn’t take him.
She had children.
A demanding job.
A long list of reasons.
So Frank moved in with us.
Our office became his bedroom.
We installed alarms
