Sadness, the Empty Room

We (I) spend time talking to B and S, telling them what they should do, in light of B's MS getting worse, in light of his falls from his chair, and my nattering and nagging fill the air, fill the space, takes the place of emotion. But when S talked about it last night, about B needing full-time help, or when I think about him in assisted living, I get overwhelmed by sadness. Yesterday he had a bad day, he could barely get out of bed. They realize how bad the situation is, and it changes the conversation. They finally see it as tragic and impossible as I do.