After my husband Richard died, the house became unbearably quiet.
For forty years, he had driven me everywhere—to appointments, shops, family visits, everything.
Richard always said my reflexes were too slow and that driving simply wasn’t for me.
After his death, that left me dependent on our grown daughter for almost every journey. She never complained, but I hated feeling as though my independence had died with my husband…. Continue Reading ⬇️