I loved my husband Elias more than words can express. I was 39 when we met, and he was 52—kind, thoughtful, the kind of man who made you feel seen. We fell fast and deeply, and within a year, we were married. Life felt perfect.
But just a few years later, everything changed. Elias was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer.
For two years, I became his full-time caregiver. I bathed him, fed him, sat beside him during every wave of pain, holding his hand through the worst of it. His children, Jordan and Maya, barely visited. When they did, it was only for a short while. “It’s too hard to see Dad like this,” they’d say. And maybe it was. But I stayed, because I loved him. Because I couldn’t imagine not being there for him.
