“You are allowed to feel the cost.”
That sentence stayed with me.
The next morning, Margaret made Ethan call his siblings.
Not me.
Her.
She demanded they create a schedule.
For about two months, they tried.
Then work interfered.
Vacations.
Children.
Life.
Eventually the burden shifted back.
But something between Margaret and me had changed.
I no longer pretended caregiving did not hurt.
She no longer pretended receiving care did not hurt her.
We became honest.
That honesty was probably the beginning of love.
The farm had been sold years earlier.
At least, most of it.
Everyone knew that.
Samuel had accumulated debt before his death.
Margaret eventually sold the house, machinery, and fields.
By the time she came to live with us, everyone believed she had almost nothing except a small checking account and Social Security.
She contributed a little toward groceries.
I handled the rest.
Ethan and I never asked his siblings for money.
