We do all we can to give loving care for our loved one who is broken by this disease.
We are diligent and devoted. It is what we do while we give care. We are grateful for the opportunity to share the last years with someone we love.
We ensure that he has a secure and safe life, and is surrounded by our love and tenderness. We advocate for his health. We are privileged to do whatever we can.
As I see friends I’ve made during our journey come to the end of their journey of care, I feel relief for the end of their struggle just as I did when Burt passed.
When the journey ends, it’s a relief. Their suffering ends. We can stop worrying over our decisions.
The cliché that Burt is in a better place is a truth that accounts for the relief. It’s also a fact that I miss him while my burden is lessened.
Do I have less responsibility? Are my cares lifted? Yes and yes. Do I wish I’d had more time with Burt? Definitely.
Although, I know I would not have wanted to see him get any more lost and confused. He inevitably would have continued on that path.
It’s a relief, always mixed with the sorrow.
This is how it begins, first with the relief lifting off my shoulders; it is nearly a physical sensation.
My grief will always be present, welling up behind my eyes and in my heart. The sorrow, in this past year and a half, as I have found, is going to weave in and out. And so is the relief. Each time I wish he were still here, I realize that it would not be a happy outcome for either of us. He really is better off.
this is our life 