Within a week, Pop had a brighter room overlooking the garden. The thermostat stayed at seventy-two. A companion was hired. I visited daily. On his good days, he told stories about the Navy, about meeting his wife Catherine, about teaching David to ride a bike. On harder days, we just watched birds in warm, quiet company.
He died peacefully that spring, holding Catherine’s photo. Under his pillow was a note: “Thank you for keeping me warm. Thank you for not leaving me in the cold. Tell Diane I forgive her.”
Diane didn’t attend the memorial. She later sent a bitter letter accusing me of manipulation. I never responded.
What mattered was this: Pop’s final months were warm, dignified, and filled with love.
Two years later, I volunteer at that same nursing home. I read to residents, advocate for families, and bake cookies for the staff. And when I see convenience chosen over care, I speak up.
Because cruelty is often quiet—a thermostat turned down, a call not made. And sometimes the smallest act—simply showing up—changes everything.
Pop deserved to be warm.
He deserved to be loved.
And when he couldn’t fight for himself, someone had to.
You’ve just read, She Said He Preferred the Cold . Why not read Manager Had To Hire A New Employee.
