I still remember the first time Leroy said “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”
It broke my heart.
I didn’t tell him it broke my heart, but it made me so sad to hear those words. In my wildest dreams, I never thought I would find myself “taking care of him” as he fought for his life in the prime of his life. It didn’t make any sense. This was a man who made a living covering conflict and war. He saw the worst poverty. He saw how inhumane this world can be and he lived through many close-calls where death shadowed his steps. He would reach out when he could to help those in peril.
And I was taking care of him?
I always knew he appreciated the care. I knew he was comfortable and safe and I know he knew he was loved. That’s what care giving is supposed to be about.
I never wanted him to thank me.