My husband asked me to go on a road trip with him a few weeks ago. I was mostly happy but a tiny bit terrified. He wanted us to go to Sioux Lookout, Ont., for the weekend to visit his old residential school.

Worst-case scenarios littered my thoughts. Would he show me unmarked graves of school children? Break down into a shuddering lump on the ground, or share stories that would give me nightmares?

A few years back, I went with my uncle to support him when he had to recount his abuses in detail to his lawyers. It was part of his residential school claim. The experience was traumati...