Tonight, he had wandered outside in the dark and fallen through the glass storm door. Logan cut his hands pulling the glass away while Jace called 911. The boys’ phones had both died during the ambulance ride. We drove to the hospital together before sunrise. Theresa stood at her father’s bedside for a long time before he opened his eyes, looked at her, and whispered her childhood nickname. Then he asked if the boys were all right.

He remembered her. Not every day after that, but that morning, he did. Theresa moved him into an assisted living home near her house the following month, and she visits him every Sunday. Logan and Jace are grounded for lying, but they still go with her. He calls them his weekend grandsons. Logan told me later he was sorry he hadn’t trusted me. I told him I was sorry I hadn’t noticed sooner.