08/13/2026
To my brother in Christ, Hal Elrod,
Thank you, again, for sharing your heart! What a blessing this is!
**Confessions of a Caregiver**
Receiving word that another caregiver has lost their loved one isn’t easy. We just went through this a couple of weeks ago. And now, another.
There’s a special bond that exists within the caregiver circle. So this morning, when I learned that a fellow caregiver’s husband had passed, I felt the emotion—a deep sense of sorrow and loss. But there was also a feeling of release.
After years of suffering with Lewy Body Dementia, he has been freed from incredible suffering and is now at home with the Lord.
The family knew this was coming. Things had become very difficult. Their tremendous loss will be felt with sorrow, but I suspect there will also be some quiet relief. And because of their deep faith, there will even be some joy mixed into it all.
Over the past seven years of our journey with Alzheimer’s, I have often wrestled with questions of why—and also with the timing of all of this.
Bonnie and I had such plans for this season of life.
She planned to teach for another ten years. She loved her work and being surrounded by children. My real estate business was thriving. We looked forward to having more time to serve in our church. We talked about future travel and more time with our grandchildren. There were so many possibilities and, we thought, plenty of time to make plans.
Then, almost overnight, everything changed.
I’ll be the first to tell you that I don’t always understand God’s timing or His plans. Before Alzheimer’s, life took us in many different directions. Plans changed. Timelines were adjusted. Somehow, things always worked out one way or another.
This season of our lives has been very different.
We have changed plans and made adjustments, but not in ways we would have ever chosen.
My life now seems to have two pathways before me.
On the first, I’m walking Bonnie home—loving her, caring for her and accompanying her as she completes her journey in this life.
The second is a pathway I cannot yet see. It will be a new journey for me, apart from Bonnie.
Even writing those words is difficult.
The original purpose of sharing these confessions was simply to give my grief a voice. It was a form of personal journaling that brought some validation to what I was feeling—and perhaps even a little purpose to it all.
I had no idea others would be encouraged by these words or recognize parts of their own stories in mine. I’m even beginning to receive invitations to speak about our journey, share some of what I’ve learned, and most recently, talk about the incredibly difficult process of placing someone you love in a care facility.
I don't know where any of that will lead.
Yesterday, Bonnie had an especially difficult day. When I arrived late in the afternoon, for the first time I believe she wasn’t exactly sure who I was.
That was hard.
After a few minutes, the fog of confusion seemed to lift. I could tell by her smile and the look in her eyes that something had connected.
Then came the words:
“I’ve been looking for you.”
There are some moments in this journey that simply don’t need explaining.
One day I may compile these writings. Perhaps I’ll speak more regularly about the impact of dementia. Maybe I’ll even lead a support group.
But all of that can wait.
For now, my priorities are clear.
I want to cherish the time I have with my Bonnie for as long as I have her. I want to keep walking beside her as far as this road allows. And I want to offer comfort and encouragement to people like my friend who lost her husband this morning.
Maybe that is part of the purpose that has slowly emerged from all of this.
None of us gets to choose every road life asks us to travel. Some are far more difficult than we ever imagined they would be.
I certainly don't understand everything about the road Bonnie and I have traveled—or what lies ahead. But I know where my help comes from.
“I lift up my eyes to the hills—
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.”
—Psalm 121:1–2
For now, I’ll keep walking beside my Bonnie for as long as this road allows. And when the path eventually changes, I’ll trust the same God who has carried us this far to lead me forward.
And to those of you walking your own difficult road today, perhaps that is what I most want these confessions to say:
We do not walk alone.
