I Lived in a Shelter After My DIL Kicked Me Out When My Son Died, But She Had No Idea About His Secret
If you had told me ten years ago that I would spend my seventy-second year sleeping on a wire cot in a municipal shelter, clutching a handbag containing all my worldly possessions, I would have poured you a cup of coffee and laughed at the absurdity. I was Helen Harris. I had a home, a…