I was my grandfather's caregiver until he died, and the role gave my life meaning. Now I don't know who I am anymore.

The author (left) was her grandfather's (right) caregiver until he died.

Courtesy of Kachelle Pratcher

• After six months of caring for my dying grandfather, I don't know who I am without the role.
• I feel guilty wanting to travel and rebuild my life, even though he encouraged me to live fully.
• I wish I'd maintained boundaries; it would have helped both of us.

For the last six months of my grandfather's life, my mornings had a rhythm: wake up, check on Papa, get him coffee...