PART 19 – I Had Written Down Every Question I Needed Answered When Dr. Reyes Told Me She Wanted to Discuss Both My Husband and My Admission

The next morning, I kept the paper beside my bed.

I wanted to have my questions ready when Dr. Reyes returned.

I was tired of forgetting something important whenever someone came into the room.

It wasn't that I couldn't remember my own life.

I could remember details from decades earlier.

I could remember the exact way Frank had laughed when Scott tried to help him paint the kitchen.

I could remember where we kept the spare keys.

I could remember the sound of the front door.

But anxiety had a way of making simple questions disappear from my mind.

I didn't want that to happen again.

After breakfast, I read through the list.

What did I actually agree to?

What authority did Scott have?

What had happened to the house?

Why was Frank's name on the plaque?

I folded the paper and placed it under my reading glasses.

Then I waited.

Dr. Reyes arrived before lunch.

She greeted me and took the chair beside the bed.

"I wanted to speak with you about the two matters we've been discussing."

I reached for my paper.

"I have a few questions of my own."

"That's perfectly fine."

I unfolded the sheet and looked at the first line.

"What did I actually agree to when Scott brought me here?"

Dr. Reyes listened.

She explained that the admission record described a long-term placement.

I told her again that Scott had described only a temporary stay while the house was painted.

She made sure that distinction was included in the record.

I asked whether the documents showed what authority Scott had.

She said she was continuing to review the information and would not give me an answer until she understood what the papers allowed.

I moved to the next question.

"What happened to my house?"

"The information in the file says the property was sold. I have not independently verified the transaction."

I nodded.

It was the same distinction she had made before.

I was grateful she continued to make it.

I did not want someone repeating an entry in a computer as though it were proof of everything that had happened.

I asked whether she could help me obtain the documents connected to my admission.

She told me the request was still being handled.

I thanked her.

Then I looked at the final question.

"Why is Frank's name on the plaque?"

Dr. Reyes folded her hands.

"I have been checking the historical information associated with the building. His name is there for a reason, but I want to confirm the details before I explain them."

I looked at her carefully.

"Is it something good?"

She considered the question.

"I don't have any reason to believe it reflects badly on him."

That answer brought me some relief.

I hadn't realized how much I needed to hear it.

Frank had lived an honest life as far as I knew.

I could not imagine him being connected to anything shameful.

But the uncertainty had begun to disturb me.

I nodded.

"All right."

Dr. Reyes glanced at the photograph.

"I understand why this matters to you."

"Of course it matters. He was my husband."

I looked down at the frame.

"We spent most of our lives together. I thought I knew the important things about him."

She listened quietly.

"I know people keep some things private," I continued. "But finding his name here without knowing why has made me feel as though I missed something."

"That doesn't mean you failed to know him."

I looked up.

She spoke gently.

"People can do meaningful things without discussing them at home. It doesn't mean their families didn't know them."

I thought about that.

Perhaps she was right.

Frank had never needed applause.

He had always seemed more comfortable doing a job than explaining why he had done it.

I could accept that.

What I could not accept was having my own life placed in someone else's hands without an honest conversation.

I told Dr. Reyes as much.

She nodded.

"I understand the difference."

We sat quietly for a moment.

Then she asked whether I had any other questions.

I looked at the paper.

There were no more lines.

For once, I had asked everything I had come to ask.

"Not today."

She stood.

"I'll return when I have verified information to share."

I thanked her.

After she left, I put the paper in the drawer beside my bed.

I had not received all the answers I wanted.

But I had made my questions clear.

That mattered.

I spent the afternoon reading a few pages of a book I had brought with me.

I had not opened it since arriving at Willow Creek.

I kept losing my place because my thoughts wandered.

Still, I read for a little while.

Then I put the book down and looked at Frank's photograph.

I was beginning to understand that I could remember him with love without assuming I knew every part of his life.

I could wait for Dr. Reyes to verify the facts without treating every unanswered question as a threat.

And I could insist on answers about Scott's decisions without feeling guilty for challenging my own son.

That last lesson was the hardest.

But it was one I needed to learn.

Click here to continue reading: PART 20: When the Director Returned With a Firmer Answer, I Realized That Understanding My Husband Would Not Make My Son’s Choices Any Less Serious