Even at the Age of 93, Ed Is Sick — How to Stay Motivated Through the Hardest Days Caring for a loved one in their final years is a journey that tests not only your strength but also your spirit. When someone you love deeply—like my father Ed—is 93 and sick, every day becomes a blend of tender moments and emotional battles. The weight of watching him suffer, the endless cycle of caregiving, the emotional exhaustion... all of it can slowly chip away at your motivation. And yet, somehow, you rise again the next morning, determined to keep going. Here’s how I’ve learned to stay motivated, grounded in love, purpose, and the quiet power of hope—even on the hardest days.
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1. Remember Why You’re Doing This
Motivation doesn’t always roar—it often whispers. In my quietest moments, when I’m overwhelmed by the sight of my father in pain, I remind myself: This is for him. This is for the man who once carried me on his shoulders, who stayed up late helping with schoolwork, who sat through dance recitals and doctor appointments without ever complaining.
He may not have the same strength he once did, but I carry the love he gave me every day. That love is fuel. That love is my “why.”
2. Find Purpose in the Present
When caring for someone with chronic illness or age-related decline, especially at 93, it’s easy to get lost in grief for what used to be. I’ve learned that instead of mourning every change, I must embrace the present for what it is: a gift.
Sometimes that “gift” looks like a quiet moment where he holds my hand. Sometimes it’s a sleepy smile or a moment of recognition when I play his favorite music. These may seem small, but they’re everything. When I focus on what’s still here rather than what’s slipping away, I find purpose—and with that, motivation.
3. Take Care of Yourself, Too
Motivation is impossible when you’re running on empty. There were weeks I barely slept, ate whatever was closest, and didn’t allow myself to cry. I thought being strong meant never pausing. But I’ve learned the hard way: to care for someone else, you must care for yourself.
Now I try to eat nutritious meals, go for short walks, and talk to friends. I carve out 15 minutes a day just for silence, prayer, or reflection. Self-care isn’t selfish—it’s the oxygen mask that helps you keep showing up.
4. Celebrate Small Wins
When someone is 93 and sick, the victories are different. It’s no longer about “getting better” in the traditional sense. It’s about quality, dignity, and connection.
Did he eat a full meal today? That’s a win.
Did he smile at an old photo? That’s a win.
Did he sleep peacefully last night? That’s a blessing.
These moments remind me that what I’m doing matters. Each one is a spark that reignites motivation.
5. Talk to God (or Lean Into Whatever Gives You Strength)
Faith plays a huge role in my journey with Ed. There are nights I kneel beside his bed after he’s asleep, quietly praying for strength—not just for him, but for me. I ask God to fill the space where my fear lives, to remind me that I’m not alone in this.
For others, that strength might come from meditation, journaling, or simply sitting outside and feeling the sun. The point is: you need a source of strength bigger than the burden you’re carrying. That’s where motivation gets its deepest roots.
6. Allow Yourself to Feel Everything
Grief doesn’t wait for goodbyes. When someone is sick and fading before your eyes, anticipatory grief creeps in. It can cloud your motivation if you try to suppress it.
I’ve allowed myself to cry. To feel angry, helpless, scared. To mourn who he was even as I love who he still is. Giving myself that emotional space is actually what helps me stay steady—because I'm not pretending everything is okay. I'm choosing to be real, and that honesty makes room for grace.
7. Ask for Help
There is no medal for doing this alone. I used to think asking for help made me weak or less capable. But I’ve come to see that sharing the load is what allows love to multiply.
Sometimes help comes in the form of a nurse. Sometimes it’s a friend bringing food. Sometimes it's just a text saying, "I’m thinking of you.” Accepting help keeps your spirit from burning out. And it keeps your motivation from slipping away completely.
8. Speak Life into the Journey
Every day, I tell Ed something positive. Even if he’s not fully lucid, I speak to him with love:
“You’re doing so well today.”
“You’re so strong.”
“I love being with you.”
And when he’s sleeping, I still speak those truths to myself. You’re doing your best. This is hard, but you're not giving up. Speaking life—even when it feels like a whisper in the dark—has the power to light a fire again.
9. Remember That Love Is Stronger Than Pain
Yes, it hurts. Watching someone you love deteriorate is one of the most painful things a heart can endure. But love… love is stronger.
When I look at Ed—at his weathered hands, his tired eyes, his quiet strength—I remember that love built this road. And love will carry us through it. That truth motivates me more than anything else.
In Closing…
Even at the age of 93, Ed is sick. And I am exhausted. But I am also filled with love, hope, and determination. I keep going not because it’s easy—but because it’s worth it.
Motivation in caregiving doesn’t come from the promise of healing—it comes from the promise of showing up, of loving fully, and of honoring a life that has meant so much.
Every day with Ed is a gift. And as long as he’s here, I will keep choosing love, choosing faith, and choosing to carry this journey forward—one step, one prayer, one act of care at a time.
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