The only thing worse than losing someone you love suddenly is losing them slowly.

In 2002, my father-in-law, Bill, was 49. He sat me and my wife down to deliver grim news: the doctors had found a brain tumor that turned out to be an aggressive and incurable cancer. Without a miracle, he had 12 – 15 months to live.

There was no miracle.

Just surgery. Chemo. Memory loss, hair loss, facial swelling. The cognitive changes were slow at first. Then a second surgery accelerated the decline until Bill didn’t look or talk or act like Bill anymore.

In the final weeks, a pastor from Chile — Bill had planted churches there — flew to the US to assist with caregiving, joining Bill’s wife and my wife. This care team had moments of light and grace, moments where they laughed so as not to cry. But mainly it was a lot of waiting: waiting on his needs; waiting for him to pass. Fourteen months after diagnosis, death came like a long withheld mercy.

The odds are good that you or someone you know has a caregiving story like this. We just received this one from a Friends in Formation podcast listener:

Three years ago, the love of my life came down with dementia. Her dementia has progressed to the point where she’s unable to communicate verbally. And a little while ago, her safety and my own health led me to place her in a home. I visit her on a regular basis and want her to know that she’s not only loved by me and our family, but that our heavenly Father loves her as well. I know there is a communication of the heart. So I try to sing to her simple love songs, like ​“You are My Sunshine,” as well as hymns that she grew up with, as well as holding her hands while I pray for her. I want her to know the peace that will sustain her as we journey together through this horrible disease. Do you have any suggestions? How can I be a ​“friend in formation” to her?

On the podcast, Nate, Richella, and James offered wisdom and compassion without easy answers (because, as anyone who has been a caregiver can attest, there aren’t easy answers). Some things I gleaned: caregiving is a high calling; the person cared for has lost function but not value; Christ can relate to the unique struggle of the caregiver; and, it is important as a caregiver to prioritize rest and care for yourself. To hear those ideas fleshed out, and discussion around two other thoughtful questions, listen to the full episode here.)

For those who are caregivers now, have been, or will be some day — that is nearly all of us — I sense two words surfacing now: Jesus remembers.