What Comes After

A member came to the group after her spouse died and offered the rest of us a look at what comes after caregiving. Her words, you think you're ready, stayed with the room all hour: plans and phone numbers are preparation, but they do not reach the part of loss that has nothing to do with tasks.

Opening Reflections

This was a quiet meeting, and one of the more important ones we have had.

One of our members recently lost her care recipient, her spouse. And she came anyway. She sat in a room full of people who are still in the middle of caregiving and told us, plainly and without dressing it up, what it is like on the other side. We are so grateful she did. It is not a small thing to show up in the first stretch of grief. It is a larger thing still to spend some of that grief helping other people see what is ahead of them.

Early on she said something the room stayed with for most of the hour: you think you’re ready.

Many of us in this group have spent real time and effort on readiness. We have talked about who has the passwords, where the documents are, who to call first, what our person wants. All of that matters. What she described is that it covers the tasks, and the tasks turn out to be the smaller part.

What she offered us was a kind of foreshadowing. Not every caregiving story ends the same way, but for every caregiver whose person dies first, this is where the road goes. She gave the rest of us a look down it, while she is still walking it.

The hour held a few threads: the difference between preparation and readiness, the particular loneliness of losing a spouse, and the harder idea that life after caregiving cannot really be shaped until it arrives. We closed with Rabbi Brian’s Notes About Mourning, which we are sharing here as well.

Topics Discussed

In Closing

We want to end where the meeting began, with gratitude.

She did not come to teach us anything. She came because this is her group, and because being among people who understand was better than being alone with it. And in doing that, she taught us more than a presentation on grief ever could. She reminded us that caregiving is a stage of life, not the whole of it, and that whatever comes after will arrive in its own time, in its own shape, and will ask something of us that no binder or checklist can hold.

The plans are still worth making. They clear the way. They are just not the same thing as being ready, and it may be a relief to stop expecting them to be.

To our member: thank you. You are held here, now and for as long as you want to keep coming.

To everyone else: you’re not alone in this, before or after.


With care, Meg & Candice