When Dan lost his beloved wife, life grew quieter.

His children, worried about his solitude, urged him to be somewhere he could be surrounded by people, by community. It was then that Dan was offered an apartment in 1998 in our housing—just a few blocks from his daughter’s flower shop. She could stop in, drop off some lunch, and more importantly, keep an eye on her dad. At first, it was a way to ease a grieving heart. But it quickly became more than that—it became home.

As time passed, Dan began to face serious neurological challenges. A difficult surgery followed in 2002, and after that, a move to rehabilitation and eventually long-term care. The once-busy halls of his apartment were replaced with the sterile silence of a facility. But Dan never let go of the place he loved. Day after day, month after month, he called Connie.

“Connie dear,” he’d begin every call, “I need to come home. And how are you doing?”

Dan knew Connie wasn’t well either—she was battling breast cancer, something he had once lived through with his wife. And yet, even in his own struggle, he checked in.

There was always room in Dan’s heart for others. And there was always a deep longing to return to the community that had given him life again.

Connie—who’s never been one to say no to someone in need—began to think about all the residents like Dan. Seniors who were placed in long-term care, not because they wanted to be there, but because they had no other option. What if there was another way?

She started making calls—to every provider who already served the residents in our buildings. One by one, she asked: Can you do just a little more? Can we try something new—together?

That’s how the Transitional Congregate Program was born in 2004: a shared living arrangement for elders like Dan, with 12 months of enhanced supportive services. The goal was simple but powerful—give people a chance to come home, recover, and eventually return to their own apartment, living with dignity and independence.

Of course, Connie made it happen. And Dan was the first to return.

Back in our building, Dan’s smile returned too. He lived almost five more years surrounded by friends and familiar faces, with the freedom to make decisions about his care and the comfort of being in a place he loved.

He would often say, “Connie saved my life.” But truthfully, Dan saved hers, too.

Since its start, Connie’s program has helped more than 80 seniors leave long-term care and reclaim their independence. Yes, it saved money for the State—but more importantly, it restored lives. It brought people like Dan home.

And that’s a legacy worth holding close.