What care looks like at both ends of life
- Bharat Barve
- May 1
- 5 min read
Caring for my father and my toddler showed me something I did not expect: at completely different stages of life, care starts to look surprisingly similar.
“Sir, she has not had any motions for the last two days. Is everything alright?”
I called my pediatrician, just to be sure about my few-days-old daughter. He calmly said everything was fine and there was nothing to worry about.
That same evening, she had motions, but they were watery. I called the doctor again.
As I was speaking, something felt familiar. Deja vu!
I have had a very similar conversation a few years ago, when I was checking on my father’s condition with our family doctor.
It felt like a full circle moment.
It reminded me of a line from the movie Piku, where Mr. Bachchan says,
“Motion se hi emotion hai.”
Not to gross you out, but a surprising part of both the beginning of life and the later years revolves around something as basic as this.
And that is when the thought came to me, are there more similarities like these?
I am grateful that I could be there for my father in his declining years, to assist him with his physical challenges. Somewhere deep down, I had always felt that this responsibility would come to me one day.
Because of that, I grew up being very careful about my own well-being. I avoided situations where I could get physically hurt. Not because there was no fear, but because there was a sense of responsibility. I wanted to be available when I was needed.
Looking back, I was playing it safe in many ways. But to me, it felt like preparing myself to be of use when the time came.
And when that time came, I am grateful that I could show up.
With time, life moved forward, and that care found a new direction when we were blessed with our daughter.
While there is a clear difference between caring for someone who is moving towards the end of life and someone who is just beginning it, I started noticing some quiet similarities in the act of caregiving itself.
These are based purely on my personal experience.
1) Dependency
In both cases, you realise that someone depends on you in a very real way.
It is not just about helping them occasionally. It is about being present, consistently.
You become a part of their ability to function. And accepting this changes how you show up every day.
For my toddler, dependency was developmental. She was still building her capabilities.
For my father, dependency was degenerative or situational. Capabilities were being lost.
2) Awareness
Caregiving teaches you to stay aware at all times.
With a toddler, it is about safety. Watching where they climb, what they touch, what they might put in their mouth.
With my father, it was different, but just as critical. There was a time when he could not move his arms. Even a slight imbalance while sitting could make him fall. And he would not be able to stop himself.
That kind of awareness becomes second nature. You are always observing, always anticipating. But most importantly, you are always in an alert mode.
3) Patience
Care has its own pace.
It can feel like things are slowing you down. But over time, you realise that this slowing down is not a problem to solve. It is the experience itself.
There are moments when it feels physically and emotionally tiring, but you learn to keep going.
You begin to move at their pace, not yours.
4) Conversations
Talking helps, even when it feels one-sided.
With a toddler, you are not always sure how much they understand, but they are absorbing more than you think.
With my father, conversations often helped me more than him. I got to hear his thoughts, his experiences, and lessons that I would not have learned otherwise. With every conversation, I got to understand him more.
Sometimes, talking is not about being understood. It is about staying connected.
5) Empathy
Caregiving shifts your focus away from yourself.
You start thinking in terms of their needs first. What they are feeling, what they might need, what might make things easier for them.
Understanding my father helped me care for him better. I see the same with my daughter now.
Empathy becomes less of an idea and more of a daily practice.
Where caregiving feels different
Even with these similarities, there are differences that you cannot ignore.
With a child, you are witnessing growth. There is excitement in every small step forward.
With an ageing parent, there is an awareness of decline. That brings a different kind of emotion.
One is moving towards independence. The other is slowly moving away from it.
With my daughter, there is a sense of what is to come.
With my father, there was a sense of what had already been lived. We had to learn to accept the decline.
The actions may look similar, but the meaning behind them feels very different.
The simple acts of generosity
I was also fortunate to be there for my mother during her illness. From the time she was diagnosed with cancer until her last day, I could be around her and support her in whatever way I could.
She was not entirely dependent on me, but the caregiving experience still carried some of the same elements. Being present, being aware, and doing what you can when it matters.
While growing up, my parents taught me to be there for someone in need, not out of expectation, but out of generosity. To give your time and presence without keeping score. Even when their own lives were not easy, especially with their health challenges, they made sure to help someone in whatever way possible.
During the difficult phases of my parents’ health, help came to us in unexpected ways. Someone, from somewhere, would always show up and make things a little easier. In those moments, we saw caregiving come back to us when we needed it the most.
Maybe that is what stayed with me, and what I am able to carry forward today.
Parting thoughts
Looking after someone in need does help them in very real ways.
But in my experience, it changes you just as much, if not more.
It teaches you patience. It makes you more aware. It quietly shifts your focus away from yourself.
And somewhere along the way, without actively searching for it, you begin to feel a sense of meaning in simply being there for someone else.
Maybe that is what caregiving really is. Not just helping someone live their life, but slowly understanding your own a little better.
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