They raised us. They drove to the practices, sat up through the fevers, and quietly carried a thousand things we never saw. Now, slowly, the carrying turns the other way.
This is a place for that turning — honest notes from the middle of it. Some of it is hard. Some of it is unexpectedly tender. All of it is written for the adult children trying to do right by the people who did right by them.
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Welcome, Friends
While we've never met, I say friends because we all share something deeply personal. The experience, both good and difficult, of caring for a loved one in their later years.