I truly believed I was doing something good when I enrolled my Grandma in a senior center that seemed safe and welcoming. At first, she loved it. But within weeks, she changed—she grew distant, stopped calling, and her usual joy faded. I sensed something was deeply wrong. When I started digging, what I discovered left me stunned and furious.
My name is Abigail—most people call me Abby. I’m 28 and live just ten minutes away from my Grandma Rosie. She raised me after my mother passed when I was six. She’s not just my grandmother—she’s my foundation, my family, and the woman who taught me how to be myself.
We’ve always been inseparable, calling each other every night unless one of us was sick. Grandma Rosie’s always been sharp, proud, and full of stories… so I didn’t think twice when she was excited to start going to the new senior center.
At first, she adored it—praised the lemon-scented hallways, the kind staff, and raved about the tai chi instructor who was “alarmingly flexible for a guy in his 70s.”
But then… something shifted.
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