Caregiver “Anyway”

This Is Where My Story Begins: Caring for My Mom and Dad ❤️

I’m 51 years young, born and raised in New Jersey—and I love my home state. It’s given me a lifetime of memories, both good and hard, and it’s where this whole story starts.

I’m the youngest of four kids. I’m married to my husband, Patrick, my rock since 2018. We don’t have kids of our own, but we have four dogs who fill our space in ways I never expected. Fair warning: there will be dog content here too.

But the reason I’m starting this blog isn’t the dogs. It’s the other part of my life—the part that shaped everything else.

The Caregiver I Became

I was the primary caregiver for both my parents, back to back, years apart.

My dad passed away from cancer. My mom passed away from emphysema and COPD after I cared for her through 17 months of hospice, in our home. Years before that, I cared for my dad through 18 months of hospice, also at home.

That’s a lot of caregiving for one lifetime.

But it’s not the whole story.

My relationship with my mom was complicated. She struggled with alcoholism, and there were years of abuse—mental, emotional, and at times physical. I’ll be honest about that here because I think honesty is the only way this blog is worth anything to anyone.

I was essentially on my own from the time I was seven years old, cooking for myself and taking care of myself while she was in the grips of things she could not control.

My dad was my best friend, but he worked brutal hours to keep us afloat, so even that relationship had its own kind of distance built in.

And yet, when the time came, I showed up. For both of them.

I took care of my mother the way she should have taken care of me.

Why “Anyway”?

That word is the whole point of this blog’s name.

I cared for her anyway. I showed up anyway.

Despite everything that happened between us, despite every reason I could have pointed to and walked away, I didn’t.

I’m not writing this to say that makes me a saint. Caregiving for a parent who hurt you is complicated, and I don’t think there’s one right way to feel about it.

I’m writing this because I know I’m not the only person who has lived this particular kind of hard, and I never found much out there written by someone who actually understands it from the inside.

If you’re caring for a parent who was not always kind to you—or who wasn’t kind at all—I see you. This blog is for you as much as it is for me.

What’s Ahead

This is just the introduction. In the posts to come, I’ll be writing about:

• What it actually looks like to be a caregiver for someone who hurt you
• The hospice years, for both of my parents, in detail
• How grief gets tangled up with old wounds, and how I’ve made peace—or am still making peace—with that
• Rebuilding my own life afterward: relationships, grief, learning how to live without mom and dad
• Some big life changes I’m working toward
• And yes, plenty of stories about my four dogs, because they have been part of my healing, too

I don’t know exactly how many people will read this. But even if one person finds something here that makes their own “anyway” a little easier to carry — I did it anyway, and so can you.

More soon. ❤️