Finding Light in Caregiving — Mom & Dad’s Adventures
- Renee Martinez-Epperson
- Nov 6, 2025
- 3 min read
Updated: Feb 21
This week, I’m beginning something tender.
I’m going to start sharing stories from my parents’ everyday adventures — with their full permission and, honestly, their delight. They love a good audience.
These won’t be polished lessons or inspirational speeches wrapped in a bow. They won’t be clinical. They won’t be “how-to” guides.
They’ll just be us.
Messy. Real. Sometimes a little ridiculous.
And somehow, in the middle of it all, deeply beautiful.
I’m writing as a daughter.
Not as a therapist. Not as a care manager. Not as someone with answers.
Just a daughter walking this road alongside two people I love.
Caregiving has changed all of us.
My mom is learning — slowly, stubbornly — that she doesn’t have to be perfect to be worthy.My dad is learning that even when memory shifts and days feel confusing, he is still himself. Still funny. Still strong. Still deeply loved.
And me?
I’m learning that laughter and heartbreak can live in the same afternoon.
🌿 A Little Sneak Peek
There was the day Mom decided the entire city block needed “a little tidying.” She marched out with the lawn mower like she was leading a parade.
Dad followed behind her carrying a giant axe.
Yes. An axe.
He was going to “help.”
What followed involved a broken mower, a surprise rainstorm, dirt flying onto our dinner plates, and neighbors pretending not to stare.
At the time? It felt overwhelming. Now? It’s one of our favorite stories.
Because in the middle of the chaos, they were holding hands.
Even then.
Especially then.
💛 Why I’m Sharing This
Because if you’re caring for someone — a parent, a spouse, a sibling — you might need to hear this the way I once did:
It’s okay to laugh.
Laughing does not mean you’re minimizing the illness. It doesn’t mean you’re ignoring the hard parts. It doesn’t mean you’re not exhausted.
Sometimes laughter is how love survives.
And sometimes the very moments that feel like disasters… become the stories you treasure most.
Caregiving isn’t neat. It isn’t orderly. It isn’t predictable.
It’s human.
And humans are messy.
❤️ What You’ll Find Here
Real stories. Moments that might make you smile.Moments that might catch in your throat.
Gentle reflections from someone in the middle of it — not above it.
And space.
Space for caregivers. Space for volunteers. Space for anyone who has ever stood in a kitchen at midnight wondering if they’re doing this “right.”
(There is no right, by the way. Only love. And trying again tomorrow.)
💬 To My Fellow Caregivers
If you’re tired, I see you.
If you’ve cried in the car before walking back inside, I understand.
If you’ve laughed at something completely inappropriate and then felt guilty about it — you’re in good company.
You are not alone in this beautiful chaos.
There is dignity here. Even in the confusion.There is meaning here. Even in the loss.There is connection here. Especially in the small, ordinary moments.
We don’t have to pretend it’s easy.
We just have to keep showing up with compassion — for them, and for ourselves.
👨👩👧 To My Parents
Thank you for letting me tell our stories.
For your courage. For your humor. For the way you still find each other in the middle of everything.
You remind me every day that love is not erased by illness.
It just changes shape.
If you’re walking this road too, I’m grateful you’re here.
We’ll keep finding light together.
Even on the rainy, dirt-on-the-dinner-plate kind of days. 🌿
— Renee Martinez-Epperson, MSWAntlers Creek Caregiver Foundation, Inc.A Colorado nonprofit supporting caregivers and families
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