Three Days Before My Dad Died

Three days before my dad died, I shared an image to Facebook that said:

“In the blink of an eye everything can change. So forgive often and love with all your heart. You may not have that chance again.”

At the time, I didn’t know how literal those words would become.

That same day, I also posted an update thanking friends who had come to visit my dad. He was on hospice, and while the last few months had been filled with health challenges, we were taking things day by day. I asked for prayers, because that was honestly where we were. Hopeful, scared, grateful, and exhausted all at once.

I was living in St. George then, so I wasn’t providing his daily care. But caregiving doesn’t only happen at the bedside.

During that time, I used the resources and connections I had to help our family navigate what we didn’t yet understand. I helped connect us with care centers and hospice nurses. I asked questions. I gathered information. When the final week came, I was there in person. I helped coordinate family meetings and conversations that were hard but necessary.

None of it felt heroic. It felt like doing what needed to be done when time was suddenly very short.

When my dad passed, everything did change. Quickly. Completely.

Looking back, that post feels like a quiet acknowledgement of something my heart already knew, even if my mind wasn’t ready to accept it yet. There is no script for moments like that. You just show up in whatever way you can.

At The Caregiving Corner, I want to honor that kind of caregiving too. The kind that looks like planning, coordinating, advocating, and holding steady when emotions are high. The kind that often goes unnoticed because it happens behind the scenes.

If you are supporting a parent, family member, or loved one through illness or end-of-life care, please know this. Your role matters, even if it doesn’t look the way caregiving is usually portrayed. Especially then.