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Grief after caregiving

Lynne Baab • Thursday September 17 2026

Grief after caregiving

Many of us hope for a quick death for ourselves. Still, when it happens for a loved one, it is usually shocking and profoundly unsettling. I had a conversation with someone who experienced that sudden disorientation. She was in shock for months after her loved one died. Most of my conversations, however, are with people who were caregivers, either for a spouse or parents.

In this post, I want to give you vignettes of the stories I’ve been hearing. These stories illustrate the ways that having been a caregiver complicates the grief journey.

1. Missing the community. Jessica is an extravert. She was surrounded by people in the last months of her husband’s life. Caregivers came most mornings, neighbors stopped by to take her husband’s dog for a walk, hospice workers stopped by, friends brought meals, and adult children came and went. After her husband’s passing, her house feels uncomfortably silent, with each sound echoing in a space that feels hollow and empty. She misses him tremendously, yes, but she also misses the community of people who cared for him.

2. Lonely and adrift. Paul cared for his father full-time for more than a decade. He had never found a career niche, while his three siblings all experienced career success.  They paid Paul to live with their father and provide care, including spoon feeding him for many years. When Paul’s father passed, the house in Brooklyn was sold. One of Paul’s siblings invited Paul to live in her second home in Seattle. Paul has been living in my neighborhood for a year. Like Jessica, Paul is extraverted and friendly. Now he is also lonely and adrift. The adjustment to a different city and regional culture on the other side of the country has been hard. All of his friends are back in Brooklyn, and he can’t afford to live there. He still misses his father and his life in Brooklyn every day.

3. Purposeless. Ed cared for his wife for several years and says he would have been happy to do it forever. She has been gone eight months, and he can’t find his bearings. Losing her was a forced retirement from a job that felt meaningful and important. He has no idea what to do with the little energy he has. He feels lonely and empty, and his days lack purpose.

4. Disoriented and lacking structure. In the last months of her husband’s life, Carol drove him to multiple medical appointments each week. His passing came suddenly. Like Ed, she feels purposeless. In addition, because the medical appointments provided a framework for organizing her time for so many months, she struggles to structure her days. Despite his slow decline from his disease, his sudden death left her with the same shock and disorientation most people experience after someone passes quickly.

5. Anger and the loss of a loved one long before they pass. I talked to two widows who barely recognized their husbands in their last months of life. Both had stage four cancer, and both had tunnel vision about finding a cure. They chased every possible treatment, no matter how unconventional, exhausting, or demanding for their caregivers. Both widows had to deal with a strange sense of having lost the husbands they had known long before the passing. They also have moments of anger at how difficult some of the treatments were for them as caregivers and how oblivious their husbands were to the cost of the treatment on their wives.

I’ve talked with or participated in groups with maybe 15 to 20 people who lost their loved ones after being a caregiver. A few of them worry they didn’t do enough in pursuing treatment for them. A few of them, like me, feel guilty that caregiving was so difficult for them, even though they loved the person they were caring for. A few of them, also like me, feel okay about living alone. (Of course, I manage to feel guilty about that, too — crazy.) All of the ones who seem to be doing okay living alone appear to be introverts. I am wondering if grief after caregiving is significantly different for introverts and extraverts. If you have any stories, let me know.

In addition to all the emotional realities I’ve described, caregiving is exhausting. Caregivers have to deal with all the work of death while they are usually still very tired.

Maybe you’ll recognize yourself, a friend, or a family member in these stories. Maybe these stories will help you pray in a more informed way for those who are caregivers or who are grieving after caregiving.

A prayer for today by Isacc Watts (1674-1748):

Our God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Our shelter from the stormy blast,
And our eternal home:

Under the shadow of your throne
Your saints have dwelt secure;
Sufficient is your arm alone,
And our defense is sure.

Before the hills in order stood
Or Earth received her frame,
From everlasting you are God,
To endless years the same.

A thousand ages in your sight
Are like an evening gone,
Short as the watch that ends the night
Before the rising sun.

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Next week: More about my grief journey.  Illustration by Dave Baab: Volunteer Park, Seattle.

Previous posts about introversion and extraversion:

A book of Dave’s watercolors is here. You can buy cards, T-shirts, bags and other items with Dave’s watercolors on them here.

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