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.

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