On Oct. 13, 2021, I ceased being a caregiver. A new phase in my life began, and I had no clue how to proceed.
On that day my Pop died. He had been in failing health pretty much since Mom died on Feb. 13, 2019, and for the last three weeks of his life he was first in a hospital (he had fallen and cracked his upper femur) and then in a care facility, where he died at 5:30 that October morning.
I had moved back to their home in south Arkansas while Mom was still alive, and I was taking care of both of them. Mom was in the last stage of her battle with cancer, and it was simply much easier for all of us with me in their home instead of commuting from Fort Smith, where I lived at the time.
It was just too much for Pop to do it all on his own. He had heart and kidney problems and was simply exhausted from caring for Mom, the home, and the property. So I assumed the duties of full-time caregiver for the both of them. I took them to all their medical appointments. I prepared meals, cleaned the house, took care of the money, having been given full power of attorney several years before. I was in charge.
My brother had died in 1986 and there was no one but me to care for them. I did the best I could, feeling at times overwhelmed, emotionally drained, physically exhausted. Being a caregiver cannot be explained; it must be experienced.
I admit I had no life of my own during those years, my sole focus being on Mom and Pop, yet I regret absolutely nothing. These were my parents. They had cared for me, supported me, loved and provided for me for 60 years. There was no way I was not going to do the same for them.
What I was not prepared for, though, was what happened when Pop died. For that is when I began to question who I was, who I was becoming, who I was to be.
When one's focus, one's full attention, has been on a single purpose, with other aspects of one's life shunted off to the side, there is a confusion, uncertainty, when that all-encompassing focus is gone. My life as a caregiver was over. My life as David Kelley was to resume, yet I wasn't sure who David Kelley was anymore, having been in that all-consuming role of caregiver for so long.
Yes, I had made some attempts to care for me, going to football games, going into town for some me time, feeling guilty the whole time, feeling I was neglecting my parents. Feeling I was not doing my job as caregiver if I was doing something for me.
No doubt I am not the only caregiver who feels this way.
Now, though, since Pop's death, I have been attempting to rediscover David Kelley. I think back on all the other roles I have had in life, the jobs, the interests, the hobbies and the passions, and I attempt to fit them into my new life now.
One thing I do notice is how much more appreciative I am when I get to do those things, how much more pleasure and enjoyment I get from grilling, going to Arrowhead Stadium and tailgating with my friends and other Chiefs fans, sitting on the front porch with a glass of wine. The various components that made up David Kelley in the past are resurfacing in the David Kelley of the present.
It is not easy, this shifting from one role--caregiver for years--to another. Every day is a new adventure, it seems, rediscovering old interests and new ones appearing. I have a new job now, and I'm meeting new people, doing new things. Life beckons and I answer.
Who am I? A person who has gone through many changes in life and will no doubt go through more. I am David Kelley.
David Kelley lives in the woods of south Arkansas with three cats and many, many memories. He continues to discover who he is.