A Loving Heart

One afternoon when I dropped off my mom’s medications at the memory care home where she lived, her primary caregiver, Isabel, met me at the door, clearly distressed.

“Jane’s got pneumonia and isn’t doing well.”

Jane was another resident at the eight-person home, a woman in her mid-90s with Alzheimer’s who had been under Isabel’s care for nearly a year. “If something happens to her or your mom, I don’t know how I’m going to deal with it.”

Having worked in nursing and caregiving for 18 years, Isabel was no stranger to death. She’d left a large institution to be able to minister in a small, family-like setting. These mentally and physically challenged seniors were special to her.

When Jane died the following week, Isabel was heartbroken. As a chaplain specializing in grief, I suspected she might need a listening ear, so I called her to chat.

“I’ve been crying a lot,” she said. “These people are like my children. I see them more than my own family.” She recounted how they had cared for Jane and said goodbye to her. “She always called me Mamacita,” she said. As with any grieving person, reminiscing seemed to help, and she was able to laugh at some of the good memories.

Isabel wasn’t just a professional caregiver. Not at all. She was a loving extended-family member.