How Being a Caregiver Taught Me To Pause and Take Care of Myself

Thinking of You: Honoring My Late Husband This Thanksgiving

I was so moved when my article, How Being a Caregiver Taught Me to Pause and Take Care of Myself, was published in The New Social Worker in November 2016, during National Family Caregivers Month. Writing it was a way to reflect on the lessons I learned as a caregiver and how my family, especially my daughter, Annelise, supported me during that time.

It has been six years since I wrote the article and ten years since his passing, yet the memory of him is as vivid as ever. In this photo, you can see my daughter, a school social worker who is now a Director of a Mental Health Grant and on the verge of completing her doctoral dissertation, and the puppy I bought for him, who passed away last year, I miss my liittle viejita, her loss triggered the grief of other losses And there I am on the right, uncertain about how I would navigate this new chapter in my life.

November always brings a mix of emotions for me. There’s a palpable joy as the holidays approach—the promise of family gatherings and reunions with old friends. But alongside that joy is a deep sadness, stirred by memories of loved ones who are no longer here, who will never again sit at the dinner table. I often find myself walking between these two worlds: the celebration of life and the bittersweet remembrance of those who are gone.

Last year, I experienced profound loss. I had to pause and lean into the space of grieving. I am so grateful for the friends who called, who sat with me in my silence, and who held me through it all. My colleagues at work respected my privacy and gave me the time I needed to heal.

In that time, I found the courage to do something new: I stepped back. I began saying no to commitments, even to things I would have loved to say yes to. It was an empowering act, though not without its pain—I worried it might create distance with some friends or colleagues. Yet it was what I needed. In the midst of the world’s many losses, I also found so much gratitude: gratitude for this life, for the love given and received, and for the small but mighty gestures that remind me I am never alone.

I’ve learned to be more thoughtful about grief—my own and others’. I try to give space for healing, to be present when needed, and to reach out when someone seems like a flickering star, appearing and disappearing. It’s a kind, loving gesture that means so much.

This Thanksgiving, I reflect on the people who continue to shine light into my life, even when they flicker. Their love and compassion are always felt.

In honor of my late husband, who passed away in 2011, I wish you a Happy Thanksgiving. May it bring you peace and the ever-flowing gratitude of this life, this love, and this moment.