“Where there is a physical presence but a psychological loss.” Susan sipped her coffee and allowed the silence to stretch beyond the comfortable.

“Now what?”

After another thirty minutes of explaining forms, Susan eased from her chair to stand, carrying her mug to the sink and placing it there gently before turning to the siblings. “Go over these papers and we’ll meet later this week. I want you to absorb and read. Most of what I said might slip right past you today. But I want to remind you of a few things. First, you must grieve. Second, you must somehow get yourselves onto the same page with the same plan. From there, we will move on.”

She reached into the back pocket of her pressed khaki pants and placed three business cards on the counter. “Here’s my number for any questions; otherwise, I will see you at our next appointment. And I can’t tell you how sorry I am that you are dealing with this loss. This terrible loss.” She took a few steps toward the door and then turned to face them all with her hand on the doorknob. “You must remember that your dad still has strengths. Many of them. And you can capitalize on those. He has a long history, a rich history. He has his routines and his loves and his loathings. Those don’t disappear. Respect who he is. Look at what he can still do.”

None of the siblings spoke after she left. They sat quietly and still, as if Susan had put them in time-out as their mother had done when they fought over the last piece of pie or whose turn it was in the front seat. Scarcity, their dad used to say, was not the way their family lived. There was and always would be enough for everyone.

Colleen began to leaf through the papers, her heart pushing against her chest with a need to leave the situation, leave the room, run . . .

But this time there would be no running. This time there was no friend in Connecticut who would allow her to sleep on a pullout bed. This time there was no man in a bar waiting to meet her. This time there was no clean and light-filled apartment in the far corner of a repurposed church.

“We have a lot to decide,” Shane said. “Little by little. That’s how we will do this. Take one step at a time.” He held up a placard that Susan had left behind. “This looks like it will be helpful, maybe ease our frustration and his?”