07/21/2026
Some of the hardest people we care for in the ICU are not the patients.
They’re the ones sitting quietly beside the bed carrying the burden of being the voice for someone who can no longer speak for themselves.
Sometimes they are the healthcare power of attorney.
Sometimes they’re the spouse.
Sometimes they’re the child.
They know exactly what their loved one wanted.
And yet… they’re the only one in the room willing to honor those wishes.
While everyone else pleads for “just one more day” or “everything possible,” they’re forced to carry out the promise they made long before this moment ever arrived.
They aren’t choosing death.
They’re choosing to honor a life.
That decision often comes with unimaginable grief. But it can also come with guilt, anger, isolation, and even resentment toward family members who question their motives or challenge every decision they make.
One of the greatest privileges of the 3 Wishes Project is caring not only for the person who is dying, but also for the person carrying the weight of loving them enough to let them go.
Sometimes that means listening.
Sometimes that means reassuring them that they are not failing their loved one.
Sometimes it means reminding them that love isn’t measured by how long we can keep someone alive, but by our willingness to honor who they were and what mattered most to them.
The keepsakes we create—heartbeat bottles, fingerprint canvases, thumbprint hearts, and other personalized mementos—are tangible reminders of a life that mattered.
But perhaps the most important gift we can offer is something you can’t place in an organza bag.
Permission.
Permission to grieve.
Permission to feel angry.
Permission to stand firm.
Permission to know that keeping a promise is one of the greatest acts of love there is.
To every healthcare power of attorney who has carried this burden: I hope someone reminded you that you were never making the decision alone.
You were simply keeping the promise someone trusted you to keep.
❤️
