Can You Care For Someone You Haven't Forgiven?
It's easy to look at photos of me with Little Mama or Papa Kemp and assume my caregiving journey was simply an extension of a close, loving relationship built over decades and Instagram-worthy photos.
The reality was far more complicated than most people realized.
Here's something we don't talk about enough when it comes to caregiving:
Sometimes the person you're caring for is also the person who hurt you.
Maybe they were:
- Too critical or judgmental
- Absent or a little too helicopter-ish
- Disappointed you with empty promise after empty promise
- Or never quite the parent/person you needed them to be
And then one day, the phone rings and interrupts your perfectly planned life, job, social life, color-coded to-do list, everything...
What do you mean, "they need help?!"
Imagine that, everyone else is conveniently unavailable.
Now what?
Most caregiving conversations focus on the logistics: doctor's appointments, medications, transportation, insurance forms, durable medical equipment, emergency room visits, and late-night phone calls.
Those challenges are real.
But where's the instruction manual for what to do with decades of hurt, disappointment, anger, or unresolved pain?
What happens when old wounds that you thought had scarred over collide with new responsibilities?
How do you:
- Show compassion when your heart is still carrying the wounds?
- Become selfless when part of you is still hurting?
- Care for someone who may never apologize for the things they said, did, or failed to do?
For me, one of the biggest triggers was my weight.
Their words and approaches weren't the same, but both of my parents had opinions about it.
Decades later, I can still hear the comments. One of Papa Kemp's favorites was: "Maria, you look like you've gained weight..."
The comment itself may not sound like much at all. The problem was that it wasn't just one comment.
Some of my earliest memories involve being told I was too chubby, too pudgy, or just plain fat.
Over time those messages stop sounding like observations. They become part of the story you tell yourself about who you are.
So when Papa Kemp made another comment about my weight, I wasn't hearing a single sentence. I was replaying every similar comment that came before it.
I heard something entirely different.
The message I heard was that I wasn't enough. Each word reinforced that my value was tied to the number on a scale.
Those feelings didn't disappear when I stepped into the role of caregiver.
The interesting thing about unresolved hurt is that it doesn't vanish just because someone gets sick or has a long-term medical condition.
There I was coordinating care, advocating, showing up, and solving problems.
And sometimes, even in the middle of caregiving, he would make those comments again. Suddenly I wasn't just wrestling with feelings that started long before caregiving entered the picture.
The wound was being reopened in real time. Not because I wanted to. Not because I was holding a grudge.
But because old wounds don't magically heal just because someone needs care.
And that's a part of caregiving we rarely talk about.
And yet, I still showed up.
I still answered the phone.
I still took them both to their doctor's appointments.
I still advocated fiercely when something wasn't right.
I still showed up on the difficult days.
Not because the hurt disappeared. Not because the past suddenly made sense.
But because caregiving required me to separate who my parents had been from who they needed me to be in that moment.
And some days, that was easier said than done.
Caregiving doesn't magically erase history. If anything, it acts like a magnifying glass.
The memories get bigger. The emotions get bigger. The scars get bigger. And sometimes, so do the triggers.
- And yet, there was the call that a new medication wasn't agreeing with them.
- Your loved one still gets agitated thinking the other members of the retirement community are conspiring against them or stealing from them.
- Then you get pulled aside for "the talk" about their combative behavior.
Life keeps moving at warp speed.
This is one of the hidden burdens many caregivers carry.
While everyone else sees the tasks and applauds you for being such a great caregiver or advocate for your loved one, the caregiver is often carrying something much heavier: the emotional weight of the past relationship right alongside the present one.
That's the part few people see.
And the part even fewer ever speak out loud.
It's also one of the reasons caregiving can be so mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausting.
- You're not just managing a loved one's needs.
- You're managing your past and present emotions at the same time.
- And often with someone who is no longer in a state of mind to give you the answers or closure you desperately seek.
I can't tell you what forgiveness should look like for you.
I only know what I had to do to stand by both of my parents through some very difficult seasons.
What I do know is this:
Holding on to anger doesn't make caregiving one ounce easier.
Pretending the hurt never happened doesn't magically erase anything either.
But somewhere in the middle is a path toward peace.
Maybe it's forgiveness.
Maybe it isn't.
Maybe you'll get a second chance for apologies and reconciliation.
Maybe you won't.
My faith taught me that forgiveness wasn't optional.
At some point, I made the decision to forgive.
What surprised me was discovering that forgiveness and caregiving are not the same thing.
Choosing to forgive didn't erase decades of history or prevent old wounds from being reopened. It simply gave me a place to begin.
If you're a caregiver, I want you to know something:
You are not a bad person for struggling with these feelings. And I want you to know you are definitely not alone.
Chances are you're carrying far more than anyone around you knows or even than you realize yourself.
The first step may be identifying your triggers, setting boundaries, and understanding how you want to respond when those triggers are activated or those boundaries are crossed.
Most importantly, what is your North Star that helps you find your way back to peace?
More to come.
