I thought I’d spend my golden years surrounded by family, not sleeping on a cot in a homeless shelter. But grief has a way of exposing truths—and secrets—I never saw coming.My life used to be full. I had a son, Mark, who was the light of my life. And I had George, my husband, who built our family home with his own two hands. That place—every creaky step, every dent in the banister—was full of memories.