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Life After Caregiving The Unexpected Beginning
How I ve survived the loss of my father and the end of my most important role
Amy Goyer and her father, Robert Couresty Amy Goyer For more than a dozen years, I've wrapped my life around caregiving for my family, much of it in a very intensive, hands-on way. I've cared for my mom, who died in 2013; my sister Karen, who died in 2014; my dad's service dog (and my partner in caregiving), Mr. Jackson, who died, after a long illness, in 2017; and my dad, who had Alzheimer's disease, lived with me for six years and passed on a little more than two years ago. Despite my valiant attempts to of my life, I have been shocked at how difficult it has been. In fact, in many ways it has felt much harder than the years I was caring for my loved ones. The pandemic has also thrown a hitch in my . Caregiving — especially the marathon of dementia caregiving — complicates the grief and recovery that follow the loss of loved ones. Get instant access to members-only products and hundreds of discounts, a free second membership, and a subscription to AARP the Magazine. The end of my most important role
As and congestive heart failure progressed for my dad, he was obviously worn out. I treasured every moment with him and brought him all the joy that I could, but I knew the end of his life was coming closer. In an effort to prepare myself, I haltingly allowed visions of my life after he died to squeeze themselves into my consciousness. But the truth is, no matter how exhausted I was, I didn't want to wholly embrace the thought that he might soon be gone. There was no way to fully prepare for this huge loss, nor the change in my day-to-day life. Like many family caregivers, my role as caregiver for my parents had become an enormous part of my identity. It gave me a deep sense of purpose and, for so many years, was behind all of my personal and . Caregiving dictated where I lived, as I uprooted from the Washington, D.C., area in 2009 to establish a home in Arizona so I could care for my parents. My work focuses on family caregiving as well, and while work became respite, there was no escaping “caregiving” for me. My relationship with my boyfriend, Bill, changed, too, as our long-distance Baltimore–D.C. relationship became even longer distance. My friendships either adjusted or disappeared; my self-care routines were altered, and traveling for work became a way of life. The moment my dad died, everything changed. Untethered by grief
I'm no stranger to grief, having lived through those losses as well as the loss of my 19-year-old niece to suicide in 2012; my grandparents; and so many other relatives and friends. With each of these losses, I grieved but also avoided the brutal abyss of loss by pouring myself into the care of others. My purpose was clear. But when Dad died, I was suddenly untethered — floating in the silence, struggling to grasp something that felt right and secure. It seemed like a free fall with no parachute, and I was so physically, mentally and emotionally depleted that I barely had the energy to get through the days, much less look for the reserve parachute. The first three months were the worst. My emotions fluctuated between numb, angry, sad, frozen, frustrated and lost. I concentrated solely on just getting through the days and escaping in work. and my everyday life hasn't come easily. I've felt like my mind was a huge, 280-ton ocean barge that suddenly had to change course in the middle of a terrible storm, to accept that Dad was gone — that they are all gone — and chart a new course for myself. That barge doesn't turn quickly, and neither have I. I am just starting to emerge from the fog, more than two years later. My internal quest for joy, along with the importance of my family and friends, are the lighthouses that guide me. A long road back
; the ties are still there. The role just changes, as grief, recovery and estate-management matters appear. Entertainment $3 off popcorn and soft drink combos See more Entertainment offers > One person even tactlessly said to me, immediately after Dad died, “You must be so relieved.” Not so. While caregiving had been a huge challenge, I truly never looked at caring for him or any of my other family members as a burden. Regardless of their age, health issues, cognitive abilities or how difficult it was to care for them, I've still loved them all, and I'd still rather be with them. I'm relieved for all of them that they are no longer in pain or confused, but for me it's just an agonizing loss. The aftermath of caregiving repercussions
Because of my professional background in this area and more than 35 years of caregiving, I've been well aware of the importance of prioritizing care for myself, too. I had thought that when caregiving ended, I would just go to the beach and sleep for days on end. But the reality is, life goes on. I had to work and travel and deal with the aftermath of caregiving, including crippling . For the first year, I was constantly sick, which made all the other aspects of grief and recovery more difficult. My doctors told me that my adrenals and immune system had been compromised by prolonged stress. I was physically, emotionally and mentally depleted. Once caregiving let up, I crashed. My dear friend Kathy said to me, “Aim, you've been pushing yourself so hard for so long, I'm afraid you don't know how to stop.” Indeed, allowing myself to relax and accept downtime has been extremely challenging. Ironically, the has forced me to do so. I was in Arizona when lockdowns came about, and I've stayed put for eight months — the longest I've been in one place my entire adult life. In the beginning I felt increased stress regarding work, being separated from my boyfriend, being stuck at home and protecting my sister Linda (who is in the high-risk category for COVID-19). Eventually I found my way to acceptance and peace with the situation. Perhaps it took a pandemic for me to slow down, sleep more and take care of myself, too. In many ways I feel like I've weathered the pandemic with my parents — in the house where they lived for so many years. I've felt their comforting presence, urging me forward in life. AARP NEWSLETTERS %{ newsLetterPromoText }% %{ description }% Subscribe MORE FROM AARP AARP NEWSLETTERS %{ newsLetterPromoText }% %{ description }% Subscribe AARP VALUE & MEMBER BENEFITS See more Health & Wellness offers > See more Flights & Vacation Packages offers > See more Finances offers > See more Health & Wellness offers > SAVE MONEY WITH THESE LIMITED-TIME OFFERS