A year ago today, my dear friend Debi passed away from ALS. I met Debi about a year before she passed—she was my girlfriend-at-the-time’s mom. Our friendship grew even when me and her daughter broke up, and I was a caregiver for her along with her widower, Steve. ALS is an incurable disease that progressively shuts down your bodily functions while your mind stays totally intact.

Here are a few things I learned from that process of caring for her in hospice:

1. Relationships don’t have to fit the mold. 

It makes no sense why I’d still care for Debi after me and her daughter broke up; it would’ve been totally normal to part ways with the family. But it just felt right. Looking back, I’m so grateful for the opportunity I had to be with Debi in her final days; she and the whole family taught me so much that I would’ve never learned if I just went with what a relationship “should” look like.

2. Life probably won’t turn out how you plan it.

One day Steve, Debi’s now widow, and I were preparing some things for Debi at the twin sink in the bathroom. He was washing her respirator in the right hand sink while I was preparing a warm compress towel for her eyes on the left side. Steve chuckled and said, “You know, when we got these double sinks, this isn’t exactly how I pictured using them.” Life doesn’t go according to plan, but it’s about rolling with the punches and making the best of it. 

3. Take care of yourself first. 

Steve stepped away from his practice as a lawyer so he could be Debi’s full-time caregiver in the year leading up to her passing. But every Thursday night, he would have some time to himself to go to his pottery class. It was like his therapy. And he had a rule: No Guilt Allowed. No matter how much someone else may need you, it’s still vital to take care of yourself and your own mental health.

4. It’s okay to laugh in a hospice room.

Debi had a great sense of humor all the way till the end. We’d constantly be cracking jokes, even amidst her frequent medication dispensing, stomach tube feeding, and other random moments. Yes, someone is dying and it’s quite sad, but it’s also okay to laugh, smile, and continue making joyful memories together. 

5. You don’t need to be strong all the time. 

There were certain days caring for Debi when suddenly the gravity of everything would hit me, and I’d break down crying. I didn’t try to pretend like I was strong and had it all together. I knew when I needed to take some me-time to take care of myself and refill my own tank so that I could pour into her emotionally, physically, and spiritually. 

6. Grief doesn’t look the same for everyone. 

At the family gathering the night of Debi’s passing, Steve wore a polo shirt, shorts, and these ridiculous bright blue knee high socks with his newborn granddaughter’s face printed on them. I saw that as his way of saying, “Yes, I lost my wife today. I’m grieving, but life goes on and I’m going to be okay.” Someone's  process of grief doesn’t have to match mine. They’re all equally valid. 

7. Love is the most beautiful thing.

One day I was sitting in the room with Debi when I noticed Steve standing at the corner of the doorway with tears in his eyes just looking at her. “I love taking care of you,” he said to her, “I know it’s crazy, but I love being here for you.” (And I just about burst into tears.) Here’s a man literally watching the love of his life, the mother of his children, slowly die and he chooses everyday to take a front row seat to be there to make her as comfortable as possible. Witnessing that kind of love up close is something I’ll never forget. That’s the most touching, highest form of love I can imagine: loving someone enough to be there and gracefully let them go. 

There’s lots more I plan to share about my experience with Debi. I’m so grateful for all that she and the whole experience with the family taught me about grief, loss, family, and love.

If you resonated with any of this story, leave a comment below—I’d love to hear about it. 

P.S. Tonight I had dinner with Steve and Stef to celebrate Debi and it was truly beautiful. There’s a special connection we’ll each have forever. I’m so honored and grateful to have been able to be a part of it in the way that I was.