He's 102 and so vibrant. Yet he’s stashed at rehab facility against his will | Opinion

A few weeks ago, I, along with Taffy Gould, visited our friend Taylor Larimore at a VA rehab center in Northeast Miami. We had a lovely visit, laughing at his jokes and making small talk. When it was time for us to leave, Taylor stood up from his chair and gave me the greatest and warmest hug.

Taylor is 102. He has survived World War II and cancer. Still, he looks and acts like he is decades younger. He can hold a conversation with anyone, on any subject.

The sad thing about his situation is that Taylor’s apartment, where he lived for over 30 years, was sold without his agreement and everything he loved destroyed. He was then placed in an assisted living facility against his will, although his long-time partner, Taffy, had taken excellent care of him. And he was happy.

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His new home was The Palace, where Taylor had his own apartment with space for visitors, but he was not allowed to go out with them. So while The Palace was a very nice facility, and one Taylor could well afford, it was like a fancy prison.

He missed his Taffy who, at first, was not allowed to visit him. In fact, Taylor wasn’t allowed any visitors at all. It broke his heart. “If I can’t see Taffy, life is not worth living,” he told one of his doctors.

Now, Taylor is tucked away in another facility, far from his friends, in a tiny room with nowhere to even put his computer. He doesn’t belong there, but because a close relative felt that he knew what was best for Taylor, the VA rehab facility where he lives now could be his final home on earth.

Taffy, who eventually was allowed weekly visits, was so distraught over what was happening to Taylor, she filed an elder abuse case. She said it was thrown out because there was no physical abuse. There was only the undetected mental abuse of a 102-year-old man who seems to some, to have lived too long.

Last week, a couple of Taylor’s friends and Taffy had lunch together. They talked about how sad it is that Taylor is cut off from all his friends. One friend, a doctor who lives in Puerto Rico, said having Taylor — a healthy centenarian — in a facility where he is surrounded by the sick, is the most “dangerous” place he could be.

I never could understand why some family members seem to want to “rush” their elderly relatives to die, and/or cut them off from their friends, ending the daily routines that they have come to love.

I believe in making the last years of our elderly loved ones as happy as possible. This means treating them like they are still alive and not wishing for them a visit from the death angel before it’s their time to go.

For Taylor, who has lived more than 100 years, his dying surely wouldn’t seem like an early death to some. But it would be for Taylor and those of us who love and respect him.

Taylor is alert and is in his “right mind.” He has a terrific sense of humor. His dying of unhappiness would be for his friends, like me and Taffy, who still find great joy in being in his presence, unthinkable. To us, and to others who know and love him, watching Taylor waste away in a rehab facility is more than we want to see.

Yet, Taylor still laughs and shows his best side when he has visitors. He still says to anyone who asks how he is doing that the once-a-week visits from Taffy is the highlight of his week.

But Taffy has no legal standing to protect and care for Taylor. And no judge is required to read anything she may file.

“There are so many things wrong with Taylor’s situation,” she said. “With this elderly person being emotionally abused, the Florida Department of Family Services would not take an elder abuse case because there was no evidence of physical abuse.”

Although Florida law does recognize psychological elder abuse, courts often deny cases when the evidence doesn’t meet the legal threshold. In practice, cases without physical harm can be harder to prove.

Florida law requires more than unpleasant behavior. The judge typically looks for evidence that the conduct caused demonstrable mental anguish or psychological injury or was likely to cause such harm.

If the evidence shows conflict, arguments, or rude behavior but not clear harm such as anxiety, fear, depression or withdrawal, the court may find it doesn’t rise to “abuse.”

Taylor’s situation reminds me a bit of my late Grandma Susie. Grandma and I became best friends in her old age. She feared going into a nursing home and I promised her I would take care of her when the time came. That made her happy.

What I didn’t know was that while we made plans for her to live with me, her daughter, my Aunt Susie, had the last word.

There was no abuse and Aunt Susie meant well in Grandma’s case. To her, the nursing home was the best place for Grandma. But Grandma wasn’t your typical “old lady.” She was in her “right mind,” loved attending church and loved to be surrounded by her friends, most of whom were decades younger.

When I told my aunt that I’d promised to care for Grandma in her last days, she said, “… Oh, you can’t take care of Momma.” And that was that. The only thing I could do was to visit Grandma on a regular basis.

It pained me to see her in ill-fitting clothes, after we — her grandchildren — made sure she had nice “house” dresses and slippers to wear. When we asked the staff about her nice things, nobody had an answer.

The last straw was the day some of Grandma’s young friends asked permission to take her from the facility to go fishing with them – a pastime she loved. My aunt told them “No.”

Days later, Grandma stopped eating. She got depressed and stopped talking. Then, she died.

When I asked my aunt why she didn’t let Grandma’s friends take her fishing, she said, “I was worried that something would happen to her out there…”

And I said, “If she had died on the fishing creek, Grandma would have died happy. After all, she was over 100 years old.”

I vowed then to care for my own mom at home. Nobody could love my momma like I could. And nobody would care about her like I would.

There were a couple of times when Momma had to be admitted to the hospital and was released, without my consent, to a nursing home. When I asked why, I was told she needed rehabilitation. A stroke had left Momma paralyzed on one side.

I had always taken her to her out-patient rehab appointments. And I always brought Momma home from whatever nursing home she was sent to from the hospital.

I brought her to where I knew she was not just another number, and where I could give her loving care. I brought her home.

Momma died at 83 in December 2002. I’m sure she would have died much sooner had she been taken from her familiar surroundings and shut away in a nursing home.

I’m hoping for the best for Taylor. I don’t believe his work on earth is done. Not yet.

This story was originally published April 9, 2026 at 1:44 PM.