Where People Go To Die

It is Monday, before lunchtime, and I am sitting at the corner of a table that accommodates four residents in the large room of this Assisted Living facility.

This is the place where 30 residents eat three meals a day, get their meds, and hang out with “oldies” music in the background.

Colorful wash clothes are piled in the middle of our table. One of the residents begins to pull them out one at a time and fold them as best she can. She speaks with nonsensical phrases. Another resident has her head leaning backwards with her eyes closed and her mouth open, not an…