The past two years have turned our lives upside down in ways we never could have prepared for. We poured everything we had—our time, our strength, our savings—into being there for the people who needed us. Even though it cost me my job and now threatens our home, we wouldn’t change the choice to show up with love. We are asking for help now not because we’re defeated, but because we’re determined to rebuild. With a little support, we can regain our footing and begin the next chapter with hope, gratitude, and the same love that carried us through the hardest moments.

Everything began when my stepfather suffered a severe heart attack and was hospitalized. At the same time, my mother’s Alzheimer’s had progressed to the point where she could no longer safely stay alone. With nowhere else for her to go, we brought her into our home.

We live in a small 2-bedroom house and have full custody of my 15-year-old stepdaughter, so we didn’t have a spare room. We wanted to keep our daughter’s room as her own because she is finally in remission from leukemia after a four-year battle. Making sure she had stability and her safe space will always be our number one priority. Every night we turned our living room into Mom’s bedroom. We learned early on that any changes she witnessed caused confusion and outbursts, so we tried to avoid that. This “temporary” solution quickly became long-term.

At first, my stepdad’s prognosis looked better than expected, but his condition had many ups and downs. His hospital stay became lengthy, and eventually, he passed away. Losing him was heartbreaking, but it was even more painful watching Mom grieve him again and again each time she realized he was gone. As days turned to weeks and then months, we faced the reality that Mom could not return to her old life. We had to find a permanent care solution.

The decision was—and still is—deeply painful. We would have loved to build a safe suite for her in our home, but it wasn’t feasible. Her Alzheimer’s progressed in ways that made her volatile and sometimes violent, putting Sean and me in harm’s way. She also became an escape artist, constantly trying to leave the house. We modified our home repeatedly, but she always found a way around every precaution.

For everyone’s safety—hers and ours—we had to make the incredibly difficult decision so many children face: to place her in a memory care facility. It was the right decision, but it weighs heavily on my heart. The process was overwhelming and not quick, but with help from friends and family, we found a wonderful place where she is now safe and comfortable.

During this entire time, we were juggling work and expenses. I applied immediately for NYS PFL/FMLA, grateful that I at least had that option, though the process was long and stressful. Payments came sporadically—some arrived, some never did—and every delay added pressure when every penny mattered. I spread my hours as much as I could, relying on Sean for the bulk of daytime caregiving, but eventually, I exhausted my hours.

Before I had the chance to reapply for the next year, I was let go for absenteeism. Losing my job of ten years was devastating and left us without our primary, consistent income. We tried to stay afloat, but then came another blow: Sean’s father was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. His parents live three hours away with no help, so we’ve been driving back and forth constantly—another layer of stress, time, and expense that has made it impossible to find stable work again.

Now we are at the point we feared most: our home is facing foreclosure.

We are asking for help—something we never imagined we’d have to do—because this is truly our last chance. Any amount, even the smallest, brings us one step closer to keeping our home and rebuilding our life after everything we’ve been through and continue to go through.

Thank you for taking the time to read our story and for any support you can offer.