I spent more than 30 years caring for people I love. Caregiving shaped my life in ways I never expected, through the difficult days, the ordinary days, and the moments I will always carry with me.
For many of those years, caregiving was my second shift. I spent years working in cardiology, and when the workday ended, the caregiving didn't. After retiring from the hospital, I went to work at a big box store, and I continued caring for my family.
There wasn't a point when one role neatly ended and the other began. Work and caregiving existed side by side. Like so many family caregivers, I did what needed to be done and learned along the way.
Working in healthcare didn't prepare me for everything that happened when the person who needed care was someone I loved. There were practical challenges, but there were also the parts people talked about less, the exhaustion, grief, worry, responsibility, and love that followed you long after the day was supposed to be over.
Some days were exhausting. Some days were heartbreaking. And some days taught me more about strength, patience, and love than I ever thought possible.
Along the way, I began writing things down, lessons, observations, and the things I wished someone had told me. I never planned to write a book. What started as personal notes eventually became The Second Shift: Love That Doesn't Clock Out.
Caregiving changed me. It taught me that the smallest acts of love often require the greatest sacrifices. It also showed me the importance of caring for yourself while caring for someone else.
Kindred Pure Light Publishing grew from those experiences and from a desire to create something meaningful for other caregivers and families walking their own paths.
This is a place for honest stories, practical resources, reflections, and reminders that the person doing the caring matters, too.
Today, I write to encourage and support caregivers and remind them that they are not alone.
If you're a caregiver, I hope you find comfort, understanding, and hope here. Most of all, I hope you remember that what you do matters, even on the days when you feel unseen.