Has It Really Been That Long?

As I sat down to write this week's newsletter, I had a bazillion different ideas beckoning me to start typing.

 

Then I looked at the calendar and almost audibly said, "Duh!"

 

Sometimes the story is already written.

 

July has become one of the most meaningful months of my year. On July 4, it will be three years since Papa Kemp graduated to be with Jesus.

 

Nineteen days later, on July 23, I'll celebrate another birthday and another gray hair.

 

Three years ago, that birthday looked very different. Instead of making myself queen for the day, I spent it surrounded by family and friends celebrating Papa Kemp's life.

 

We held his celebration of life at the only place he ever wanted to eat: Saladworks.

 

We saved his favorite booth. His favorite jacket rested on the back of his seat. His hat sat on the table. We ordered his favorite meal and placed a small plaque with his name where he would have been sitting.

 

It may sound a little unusual. To me, it felt exactly right and I could almost see him still sitting there.

 

It's amazing how quickly time passes. It seems like just yesterday that all the phone calls from him or about him went completely silent. Not a tapering, just a full stop.

 

Some days it feels like yesterday. Other days it feels like another lifetime that leaves me asking, "Did all that really happen?"  Then I look at his

things or pictures and reassure myself that it actually did.

 

That realization made me think about something else. It's quickly approaching a year since I started writing this newsletter.

 

What began as a way to share my caregiving experiences has grown into conversations with a sea of readers, countless LinkedIn comments, and messages from people who quietly admitted, "I thought I was the only one."

 

But I've also learned something else.

 

Apparently, I wasn't doing a very good job explaining what I actually do.

After nearly a year of sharing my caregiving stories, I realized I had spent far more time explaining why this work matters than what I actually do.

 

My daughter and I even gave it a name. The "puppy dog head tilt of confusion." You know the look.

 

The one where someone tilts their head just enough to let you know they're completely and utterly lost. Or you somehow slipped into speaking a language they don't understand.

 

Some of the most common questions started with a glance at the chef jacket then sounded like this:

 

"Soooo... do you go into people's homes and cook or bake for caregivers?"No.

"Are you taking care of people?" No.

"Do you lead caregiver support groups?" No again.

 

I help employers take better care of the caregivers they already employ.Why? Because caregiving doesn't stay at home.

 

Actually, it stays hidden at work until the two worlds collide.

 

It shows up in meetings, missed deadlines, increased stress, burnout, absenteeism, presenteeism, and employees quietly wondering how much longer they can keep doing both jobs.

 

Meanwhile, leaders, teammates, and managers are wondering...

 

The problem is, they're trying to solve what looks like a performance issue when it's actually a caregiving issue.

 

Most organizations don't realize how many caregivers they already have. And sadly, many employees don't label themselves as caregivers, so they unintentionally miss resources and benefits that may already be available to them.

 

 

I use a pre-made dessert to challenge the assumptions we all make about one another, especially caregivers.

 

I take this message directly to employers. Through keynotes, conferences, and leadership conversations, I help HR leaders, people managers, wellness teams, and executives recognize hidden caregivers before burnout leads to turnover.

 

When employees feel seen, supported, and equipped with practical resources, everyone benefits. Employees experience less isolation. Managers have better conversations.

 

 

That's the transformation I'm passionate about creating because I've truly lived both sides of the story.

 

As we celebrate Papa Kemp's graduation, I'll officially celebrate the one year mark of this newsletter after I go back and look up the first edition.

 

As I begin year two of this newsletter, I'd love your help getting this message in front of the people who can make the biggest difference for working caregivers: the leaders who have the ability to create change.

 

If you know someone in Human Resources, Learning & Development, Employee Wellness, Benefits, Inclusion and Belonging, an Employee Resource Group, or someone who plans conferences and events, would you forward this newsletter to them or make an introduction?

 

Many organizations don't realize they already have caregivers quietly struggling in their workforce. One introduction could be all it takes to help an organization better support the caregivers they already employ.

 

Thank you for spending this past year with me. In doing so, you've allowed me to honor the memories of Papa Kemp and Little Mama in a way that I hope helps those walking their own caregiving journey feel seen and know they aren't alone.

 

Here's to another year of telling the stories so many people are living but so few are talking about.

 

More to come.