Grief After Caregiving: Living in the In-Between

By Amber Chapman

Last edited October 13, 2026

This Week's Theme: I'm back. Sort of.

A last week I told you my dad died. I wrote something raw and sent it before I could overthink it. Thank each of you that replied or sent me a text. I read every one and am reminded why I'm so thankful for my village.

Your prayers and words of encouragement helped remind me that even in moments where I feel overwhelmed and heartbroken, that this is a reality that all of us will experience in some way. The reality of our humanity is emphasized when we experience loss. And for me it's an ever gracious reminder for me to continue forging forward in purpose and on purpose so that I can leave even a fraction of the impact that my Dad has left on the world.

Anyhow, I'm not "better," but I'm here. And I think that's what returning looks like — not healed, just present again. Showing up even when you're still figuring out who you are now.

THE REALITY CHECK: The In-Between

There's the acute grief --> the first days when everything is underwater. And then there's this: the strange middle space where life expects you to function, but you're still figuring out how to put life back together again.

You go to the grocery store. You answer emails. You do the things you used to do. But there's a lag, like you've stepped outside of yourself and you're watching yourself from a few feet away.

Eventually, people stop asking how you are. The meals stop coming. The world moves on, and you're supposed to move with it even though part of you is still standing in that hospital room, with your phone in hand and laptop on your lap in that moment when everything changed.

You're now in the moment where you're relieved and sad, disappointed, exhausted and unreconciled simultaneously. There is no up, or down, but instead you're just....there.

This newsletter isn't about having answers. It's about naming the place — for me, and maybe for some of you who've been here too.

Deep Dive: Living in It

Here's what I didn't expect: grief after caregiving is its own thing.

You'd think losing someone you've cared for would feel simpler — I've had time to prepare and I knew it was coming, but it doesn't work that way.

The identity loss:
For the last 2 years, "caregiver" was a central part of who I was. Moving my parents across the country for their final big move, appointments, medications, coordination, crisis management — it structured my days, and then suddenly, it's gone.

I wanted the caregiving to end, but I didn't want this to be how it ended.

The complicated feelings:
Relief and grief aren't opposites. They coexist in the most messy way imaginable. I'm heartbroken by the loss and also relieved the suffering is over — both mine and his. Both are true. Neither cancels the other.

But relief comes with guilt, and I'm learning that guilt makes grief heavier.

The delayed crash:
Caregiving runs on adrenaline. I've held myself together because I had to. I'm told that when it's over, the crash comes — sometimes weeks later, when everyone else has moved on.

Eventually my body finally exhales and everything I postponed feeling arrives at once. I'm not looking forward to that and I'm not waiting for it to happen. Instead, I'm focusing on taking each day at time.

What I'm finding helps (so far):

A NOTE TO YOU

If you're in the middle of caregiving: I see you differently now. I understand things I couldn't have written about before.

If you've already been through this: thank you for the messages. I get it now.

If you're dreading this moment: it will be hard. And you will survive it. Both things.

💬 A Final Thought

That's it for this week. I'm not back to normal. I might not be for a while. But I'm here, writing to you, which feels like something.

Next week I'll probably write about something practical again. Or maybe not. We'll see.

Thank you for letting me be a person here, not just a newsletter.