The Strength to Keep Showing Up
B.B. has always been one of the strongest people I know. Growing up, he was the person who helped with homework, coached my baseball team and made time for trips to the beach, mini golf and the movies whenever work allowed. Those everyday moments shaped our relationship and taught me what it means to show up for the people you love.
When B.B. experienced his first heart attack at 53, our family saw that strength in a new way. What was expected to be a double bypass became a triple bypass. His recovery required major lifestyle changes, but he met them with quiet determination. He rarely complained. He simply kept moving forward. When I later became a young mother, he showed that same steady love by supporting me in every way he could.
Our family was changed forever when my daughter was diagnosed with a heart murmur and blood cancer. We had only 10 months with her after her diagnosis. Losing her brought a kind of grief I could never have imagined, and for a time, I lost my sense of direction too. With years of outpatient therapy and the support of my parents, I slowly began rebuilding my life. I am now seven years into recovery, and I have used what I learned to speak at mental health events, support fundraisers and volunteer for mental health initiatives.
B.B. helped carry me through some of my hardest days. Today, I have the privilege of helping care for him and my mom.
After another heart attack in 2021, B.B.'s health and daily routines changed. He now needs ongoing medical care, medication and more rest. My parents continue to care deeply for one another and want to remain together. I support them by cleaning their home, preparing meals, picking up groceries, arranging appointments, making important calls and advocating for their needs.
Caregiving can be demanding, but it is also an expression of love. B.B. and I may not be able to do all the active things we once enjoyed, so we have created new traditions. We go to the movies. We sit together at Tim Hortons and talk. These quieter moments have become meaningful in their own way. They remind me that connection is not measured by what we are able to do, but by the time and attention we give one another.
My family's history of heart disease has also encouraged me to pay closer attention to my own health. My health-care team has told me that some of my results are elevated and that family history and stress may increase my risk. I have started medication and am making changes by walking more and continuing to watch what I eat. I am learning that caring for others also means making room to care for myself, even while managing pain and post-traumatic stress disorder.
My journey has included love, grief, recovery and caregiving. Through it all, B.B.'s example has stayed with me. He taught me that strength does not always look dramatic. Sometimes it is making one more appointment, taking one more walk, asking for help or sitting across from someone you love over a cup of coffee.
Resilience is not about pretending that life is easy. It is about continuing to show up with honesty, compassion and hope. That is what B.B. has done for me throughout my life, and it is what I now try to do for him, for my mom and for others who may be facing difficult seasons of their own.