This is what I got when I asked AI for a picture to represent this story. I didn’t know AI had a sense of humor. I was teaching a nurse aide class about death and dying in long-term care when a student raised her hand. “At my facility,” she said, “when a resident dies, we’re told to say they’ve gone to Montana.” “Someone actually told you to say that?” I asked. “Yes.” “That doesn’t make sense,” I said. Facilities may have HIPAA policies, but once families are notified, roomma

“Can we even use weed here?” Paul asked.

In most nursing homes, death is not acknowledged. There is no announcement, no shared moment, no ritual of remembrance. One day a chair is occupied; the next day it is empty. Residents notice. They count how many friends have sat there before. They wait through breakfast, then lunch, then ask the front desk. Silence does not spare them grief—it leaves them to carry it alone, doing the math in their own heads and wondering, quietly, if anyone will notice when they are gone.

A cruise ship with 5,500 passengers returned every item of laundry without loss. In nursing homes, lost clothing is one of the most common complaints. A long-term care ombudsman reflects on what missing laundry reveals about accountability, dignity, and respect in institutional care.