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I’m Victoria. You can read why I’m publishing Carer Mentor here: Who Started Carer Mentor and Why? I created Carer Mentor to offer heartfelt empathy for Caregivers. It’s a hub of practical tools, resources, and insights. A community support network for all of us human-ing hard. ❤️ Start exploring here.
Letters from a Caregiver.
“Letters from a Caregiver” is a weekly article where a caregiver offers wisdom, compassion, and hope to their younger self. No one knows us as well as we know ourselves, and even then, we may second-guess ourselves. The choices, challenges and tragedies we’ve faced have forged us in more ways than anyone can understand; in ways we’re still trying to decipher!
There are two previous seasons of Twenty-One Letters.
This Spring Season so far
“Misunderstood, and everyone has an opinion,” By Victoria
“What It Takes To Embrace the Life He Has “ By Chris B. Writes
“The Long Road Home for a Different Kind of Future” By Haley Haddow
“Grace, belatedly..…Becoming the daughter she needed” By Sarah Bain
“Caring to Love.” A Letter to My Younger Self By Kirbie Earley
“My caregiving journey is a family healing journey” By Viva Mogi, MPA
Today’s ‘Letter from a Caregiver’ is by Sally Cave
I connected with Sally in late 2025. She was writing Substack notes about caring for her father, who had Alzheimer’s, here in the UK. In early January, when circumstances seemed particularly difficult, I reached out to see if I could offer some comfort or practical insights through a call.
My heart went out to her and her family, because I know first-hand how fraught hospitalisations can be, especially when your parent can’t advocate for themselves. Unpaid carers (the label we’re afforded in the UK) are not naturally included in discussions about the “pathways of care”1
My heartfelt condolences and warm wishes go out to Sally and her family for the recent loss of her father.
Thank you, Sally, for choosing to write this letter and agreeing to publish it.
Author’s Bio: Sally Cave was born and raised in the UK but has spent most of her adult life in Mexico. She lives with her family and divides her time between both countries. She developed her passion for writing when she first moved to Mexico. You can follow her on Substack Echoes of Memory by Sally Cave where she writes about everything from caregiving to faith, the supernatural and a whole lot more. Coming soon, her debut novel: Change of Heart.
The Love Test
Dear Sally,
There are so many things I want to tell you. There are so many things I want to say, but for this letter, I will focus on one. During this chapter of your life, the most important thing you must learn is to extend yourself grace. You are too hard on yourself. You expect too much of yourself. You judge yourself too harshly. Be kind. Let me say that again. Be kind.
You may not see it right now. In fact, I know you don’t. It’s not even on your radar. There will come a time when you stand up for Dad in ways you never imagined. You will be there for Dad in ways you never thought possible. You will become his hands and feet. You will become his memory bank. You will become his cook and his cleaner.
He will cheer you on from his ‘perch,’ while you run the duster over the coffee table in the lounge. As you hoover the carpet around his feet, he will offer a thoughtful, ‘Well done.’ He will lift his feet and offer his help. He will try to be useful even though he no longer remembers how.
You will dress him. You will bathe him. You will wash him and clean him up. You will shave him and trim his eyebrows. In between these caregiving moments, you will share a laugh, give him a hug and a kiss, and tell him you love him. You will watch as he forgets how to hold a fork. You will watch as he ignores his knife. You will stand by as he forgets how to drink from a glass. It will get to a point when you cut up his food and feed him.
You will explain to him things about the world as if he were a newborn, without that sparkle of newborn wonder in his eyes. You will calm him down when anxiety threatens. When crisis strikes, you will have the words that bring him peace. You will tuck him into bed at night. You will tell him it’s daytime when he believes it is night. You will guide him back to bed when he thinks it is daytime. When infection hits, you will guide him up off the floor. You will show him how to get on his feet again. Sometimes it will take him an hour. Sometimes you will find him on the floor at 3 am. You will beat yourself up because you didn’t hear him fall.
Don’t do that. Remember who you are. You are his daughter. You are the apple of his eye, and you are trying your best. Remember that, Sally.
You will watch him unravel and will mourn the passing of each layer. You will remain strong for both of you until he goes…and then you will break.
Then you will wonder what happens next. The focus on his needs, wants to go somewhere. It needs to go somewhere, but where does it go? Who should it go to?
You will feel tired, so tired that you go beyond tiredness. You will feel like you have aged 10 years in 21 months. But as you age on the outside, your heart and your soul will mature like fine wine. You will learn lessons about love and sacrifice because you embody it. You become grateful for it. You even enjoy it.
The sacrifice, the tiredness, the worry, the anguish, the grief are all worth it, because you loved him with your whole heart. You served him and honoured him. You were a gift to him. And this was his gift to you.
It’s hard to imagine, I know.
We’ve all heard it said a thousand times: “Live your best life.” We are encouraged to go out there and seize life by the horns. Mum and Dad certainly did that with you, Sally. They never held you back. Every time you grabbed your backpack and disappeared into the unknown halfway across the world, they remained at home, waiting, trusting you would be OK. There were no mobile phones, only faxes, and those would only be sent once in a blue moon. How exciting it was sitting in a makeshift shack in Guatemala with 5 phone cabins and a fax machine whirring away, until a long-handwritten letter spewed out, sent from Mum and Dad’s own machine. Those were your ‘Indiana’ days, where you roamed and explored quite unconcerned about your own safety.
They never held you back.
When you moved to Mexico, they were sad, but they never stopped you. When you remained in Mexico, they were sad, but they never stopped you. They encouraged you to go out there and live. And live you did!
Strangely enough, there are no sayings about walking away from your life to make another person’s life comfortable. No one talks about the joy of caregiving, the privilege that it is. No one talks about the gift of sacrifice.
Dad always told you not to return to the UK because of him, but how could you leave him rattling around in the house on his own? You couldn’t. You didn’t. And I am grateful you didn’t. I am proud of you, Sally. I’m proud of who you have become through this. You won’t become a great historical figure known for your contribution to mankind, but you will become great in your Father’s eyes for your contribution to one man.
And that is all that counts. Nothing else matters.
How we love is all that matters. It’s easy to love those who love us. It’s easy to love others when our lifestyle isn’t challenged, but what happens when we are faced with difficult decisions?
Do we love selflessly?
Or do we love conditionally?
Do we love like Him? Do we love sacrificially with a love that only comes from Heaven, pouring down from wounds on hands and feet into open hearts?
Or do we love for personal gain?
Do we only love when it’s easy?
The love test takes place at 3 am. It takes place when someone’s life depends on yours. It takes place when you have to be there, no matter what. It takes place when you cancel your plans over and over again. It takes place when your life is placed on hold. That is when your love is truly tried and tested.
Will it pass the test? I’m here to tell you that it will. I’m here to tell you that it did.
So next time your mind floods with accusations and doubts over the level of care you gave him, remember this: it’s not about whether your care met professional standards, it’s not about having the right qualifications or training, it’s about whether your heart passed the love test.
There was a moment when you doubted yourself. There was a moment when the system questioned your integrity. ‘Safeguarding,’ they called it. You, like a newborn to the NHS system of frailty care, had no idea that you would come under scrutiny, that they would ‘investigate’ you. It wasn’t until a lady from Adult Social Care stopped you in the hospital corridor that she mentioned a case had been opened.
‘Nasty bedsore,’ she said. ‘Possible neglect,’ she said.
Almost in the same breath, she said, ‘Don’t worry. The case has been closed. We realised you were out of your depth.’
Her words will pierce. Just like that, she will qualify you as unfit. Just like that, they will oblige you to put him into a home. No one from the outside came and encouraged you in the months prior. The system did not reach out and offer help. That help is only offered if it is paid for. You realised quickly that the system left carers alone until they came under scrutiny. And while you will feel relieved that the system reviewed the records and saw how many times you called the GP, those words will continue to sting. They will make you feel you failed him somehow.
Know this. You didn’t fail him. You loved him. By the end, you were all he knew. And he was safe with you.
And now you find yourself in this strange place. You can go out and live your life, but you are just not ready. Take it slow. Take time to heal. Rest, recover, recuperate. And when the time comes, go out there and love again.
Love is the only qualification that counts.
Love always,
Sally
1. Moving through fear or uncertainty
Prayer never fails. I often focus on and personalise a key scripture to settle my mind. 2 Timothy 1:7 is ideal for when uncertainty bites: For God did not give me a spirit of fear, but of power, love and soundness of mind. I also sing my heart out. Songs like ‘All Authority’ by Tasha Cobbs chase darkness and fear away.
2. Three qualities I admire
I tend to admire people with the following standout qualities: the ability to remain calm in a crisis; the ability not to take offence, and the ability to stand one’s ground lovingly. The first quality forms the foundation for the other two. If a person is able to remain calm, then offence doesn’t come so easily, and being influenced by others’ opinions is less likely. I admire people who can steer through crises and tense situations while remaining true to themselves and their convictions.
3. Quote / book / film that’s inspired you
This is a really tough one, principally because I have many books that have inspired me. Even though the list is long, I always come back to The Catcher in the Rye. Why? I am not entirely sure. There is something about experiencing Holden’s mental health crisis firsthand that I find so jarring and yet so relatable. I believe we all have an element of Holden inside of us. We either accept him or we struggle with him. Whatever it is, I think Salinger does a fine job of tapping into an element of the human condition through his main character.
Prompt for discussion:
Describe a time in your life when you experienced a love test. In other words, when have you had to show someone the type of love as described in this post?
Please like ‘❤️’ the article to guide others here.
An article I wrote which includes the Discharge to Assess operational process that’s employed by hospitals ‘Hospitals: a Carer’s mantra. Why?’ Actionable insights and Ideas/tips. Sharing the realities of hospitalisation.
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Sally - I need you to know that 2 Timothy 1:7 is etched to memory and I've been using that scripture every single time I am going through a challenge. Loved reading this!
Beautiful love letter to both yourself and your father Sally 🙏🏾