This work is close to my heart.

I helped care for my grandmother when she had Alzheimer’s. I watched her change, and I felt grief long before she passed away. I also raised a child with special needs. I know what it’s like to constantly advocate, feel sad in quiet moments, and love your child with your whole heart, sometimes all at once.

I’ve also worked for many years in hospice care and with people who have disabilities. I’ve sat with people during some of the hardest moments of their lives. I’ve also supported the caregivers and workers who care for them.

Watching someone you love change in ways you weren’t prepared for is disorienting. Being the one everyone else calls when something goes wrong can leave little room to feel your own feelings. Grieving a life you didn’t expect or trying to hold onto hope while your circumstances stay the same, takes something out of you that’s hard to name. Whatever brings you here, you don’t just need someone to listen. You need someone who understands the whole picture.

That’s where I come in.

I’ve spent my career alongside families facing aging, illness, and disability — whether that’s an older parent needing more care, a diagnosis that changed everything overnight, or a family navigating special needs.  Across all of it, I’ve seen the same thing: the person doing the holding rarely has anyone holding them.