When my grandma died in January, people were quick to tell me that they could not believe how long she had lived with Parkinson’s Disease, and how she managed it so gracefully. She is a fighter. That is what I told them, and it is the most truthful thing I have ever said. However, I started thinking more about how she managed to remain such a loving and kind person, how she was never quick to anger, and managed to grow and dry out lavender every summer, despite being in constant agony. How did she wake up every morning and find the strength to guide her family down the right paths, have her friends over, and be the best grandmother, mom, friend, and sister? I do not want to discredit her resilience and strength to overcome every challenge her disease threw her way, but the truth is she could not have done it without my grandpa.
My grandpa was her caregiver- through thick and thin, through every struggle. He was glued to his oath of “in sickness and in health.” He did not take care of her for sympathy, praise, or gratitude. He never complained or resented my grandmother. He just loved and cared for her. He made all of her doctor’s appointments, took her shopping even though it required moving her 45 pound wheelchair in and out of the car, organized her meds into tiny pill boxes, helped her host dinners and discussion groups for after church, and just loved her. He helped her through the hard days and celebrated her good ones. He was the reason she lived as long as she did. Looking back on the last few years, I see how family caregivers can easily fade into background of everyday life. I never noticed how tired my grandpa seemed, how he never showed his exhaustion, even though that comes with the job. He never thought about anything but my grandma, and that is what makes caregivers so unique. There is no celebration when one takes care of your loved one and makes their last years of life comfortable. There are never any “thank yous” or even acknowledgement that says “you kept my person alive.” But that is what they do. They silently do everything they can to make a sick person feel comfortable.
They selflessly put their needs behind the person they are caring for, and in doing so, care for whole families in the process. My grandma survived because of her caregiver. My grandfather held up our entire family by helping my grandmother live so our lives would not be filled with loss, even if he does not realize it. Everyone has a caregiver, whether it’s parents, friends, a spouse, children, or medical professional. We rely on them to quietly get us through our own lives more often than we would like to admit. These people are consumed by pure love for the person they are caring for and deserve more recognition and appreciation beyond saying thank you for being the quiet heroes of our lives.
