In early 2019, my father (Rebecca’s) suffered a devastating stroke. For months, our family lived in the space between hope and heartbreak, watching a proud, accomplished, and independent man lose pieces of himself.

Our family agonized over the possibility of placing him in a facility. We wanted him surrounded by the walls of his own home — walls that held his memories, the photographs that told his story, the familiar sights and sounds of a life he had built. With great sacrifice, we were able to hire in-home help. It was a blessing. It was also extraordinarily expensive.