I visited my mom at her nursing home every weekend, banana bread in one hand, a cardigan in the other. But that Saturday, something was off. The receptionist looked puzzled. “She was discharged last week,” she said.
Panic set in. “Discharged? By who?” I asked. Denise checked the records. “Her daughter, Lauren.” My heart dropped. Lauren — my estranged sister — had been gone for over a decade. No calls, no letters, not even a reply when I told her about Mom’s dementia.
Now she had reappeared out of nowhere, signed Mom out without telling me, and vanished again. No address, no number, nothing. I searched online for any clue. Days later, I found a new Instagram profile: @TheSunriseCaregiver.
There she was — Lauren — smiling next to our confused mother, captioned: “Caring for the woman who gave me life. #FamilyFirst.”
But the worst part? She was pretending I never existed.