My Husband Was In A Coma For Six Years—Then I Noticed Something Was Changing

He opened the closet. He took out clothes—real clothes, not the hospital gowns and loose cotton I dressed him in every morning. A shirt. Pants. The burgundy underwear. He dressed standing up, buttoning buttons, zipping zippers, performing the small mechanical acts of self-presentation that I had been doing for him, on him, to the inert weight of his continue reading …