The years that shaped me
Caregiving, grief and the instinct for finding light.
From a young age, and I share this with real gratitude, I had an instinct for seeing the light even in the darkest moments. Life handed me my share of dark ones. Some I was born into. Some I stumbled into. Some I walked into without knowing yet what I was walking into.
The years I spent caring for family were the hardest and most life altering of all. Long, serious illness took my dad, my mom and my niece. My dad had multiple strokes, and the last left him bedridden, non verbal and on a feeding tube, with my mom as his full time caregiver for three years until his death. Seven months later, my mom was diagnosed with stage four colon cancer and fought it for six years. Like so many caregivers, she had set her own health aside to tend to him.
My niece was diagnosed at thirteen with bone cancer, shortly after my mom. I was intimately involved in her life and her care through her five year battle. I was honored to be the aunt of that bright, funny, one of a kind light of a person, and I miss her every day.
Those years are the reason I do this work, and the reason I hold such a deep place in my heart for family caregivers. I know the exhaustion. I know the grief for what was, and the grief for what will never be. I know the feelings you are not supposed to say out loud.
I will not tell you it isn't dark.
I will not tell you what you should be seeing.
Sometimes I am holding the flashlight
until you can see again.
Nothing you bring will surprise me.