He still needs you. Once the week has gone by, you can check in on him daily to touch and comfort him and ensure he is getting the care he needs. I offer this poem to you and your spouse. May it help you find peace.

Strength at the Broken Places
(For Caregivers of People with Dementia)

Strength isn’t the force
that carries you through untouched;
it’s the quiet resilience
that emerges in the kitchen at dawn,
the weight of a long night
still settling on your shoulders,
and yet, you rise.
You thought you had to hold everything,
keep it all from falling apart,
but the truth is, you’ve learned
how to carry what breaks
and still find grace.

You imagined there would be answers,
but now you know the power
of holding questions instead.
Strength isn’t the absence of doubt,
but the willingness to move forward
even as you stumble.

It lives in the repeated acts:
the calm voice in the face of confusion,
the gentle hand that helps them remember,
the love that persists
through each forgotten name.

Strength grows not in perfection,
but in the cracks,
where hope faltered
and was rebuilt,
again and again,
shaped by each new morning.

You do not need to be whole
to be powerful,
only present,
willing to be made strong
in the places where the world seems fragile.

There is no map for this,
but there is a truth hidden in the quiet:
what you give each day
is not diminished by weariness.
It is, in fact, made more precious
by the broken places
where your love has taken root,
where it will bloom,
because of, not despite,
the cracks that let it grow.