Love In Memoriam: A Reflection
Over hundreds of conversations with caregivers, I have discovered that loneliness is one of the hallmarks of the family caregiving experience. No matter whether caring for a parent, partner, or child; no matter what stage of the process one is at or what kind of care the patient needs; caregivers are largely alone, and the work they do is invisible. This is especially true when it comes to end-of-life care.
This topic has been particularly difficult for me on my caregiving journey. I have never been good at handling endings. In fact, I recently wrote a post for Thought Catalog on a particularly painful roadtrip where I grieved and processed the end of a chapter of my relationship with my father. After I got home, I continued to reflect on my trip, and in particular on the journeys of other caregivers, who have to deal with and process their grief alone.
In America, death is something to be shushed and feared, instead of revered. This renders much of the end-of-life process invisible — much like the caregiving experience. Caregivers and family members must struggle through this process — navigating options alone, finding solutions alone, grieving alone — like some torturous triathlon of existential grief.
Would we feel so alone in the end-of-life process if we were supported throughout it? Would we grieve in quite the same way?
