Some mornings, before the coffee even has time to brew, I catch my father watching me
from the doorway.
Not saying anything.
Just waiting.
At over 90 years old, both of my parents have reached the stage in life where the world
has become smaller, slower and completely dependent on the person sitting just a few
feet away at a computer screen for ten hours a day.
My dad, who suffers from Parkinson’s disease, moves carefully through each morning,
relying on routine and assistance to steady him through the day. My mom, a diabetic,
depends on me not only for meals and medications, but for other aspects of daily life.
Both wait for me to administer their morning medicines.
They wait for breakfast to be prepared.
They wait for rides to doctors’ appointments and therapy visits.
And sometimes, they simply wait for me to look up from the endless blur of work long
enough to say, “Okay, let’s go.”
Every day begins at 4:30 a.m.
***
Long before most people wake up, I’m already moving quietly through the house,
beginning the delicate balancing act that has become my life. Medications are
organized with practiced precision. Breakfast is prepared carefully around dietary
restrictions and medical needs.
I mentally map out the day ahead — nurses, occupational and physical therapists,
phone calls, meal prepping, pharmacy runs, and somewhere in between all of it, the
responsibilities of serving as managing editor of BINJE, a business news publication
covering the state’s constantly moving business landscape.
Even before sunrise, I anticipate the familiar early morning email from BINJE Owner
and Editor Tom Bergeron. Overnight, another lead has likely surfaced through one of his many industry connections. Another breaking news item needs to be added to the
newsletter. Another story must be chased before the business world begins its day.
By 6 a.m., I settle into my computer chair and enter a nonstop cycle that rarely lets up. I
check the wires. Review pitches. Return phone calls. Track developing stories. Edit
articles. Update the website. Coordinate newsletters. Publish daily content.
Every hour brings another deadline, another email, another request needing attention.
But while New Jersey’s business world moves rapidly across my screen, life inside the
house unfolds at an entirely different pace.
***
My parents sit nearby through much of the workday, often staring at me while I type, talk
on a call or edit another story. They wait for the moment I can finally step away from the
keyboard. Waiting for a drive to the grocery store. Waiting for an outing to their favorite
local casino — one of the few places that still gives them a sense of excitement,
familiarity and joy.
At their age, I have become far more than a daughter.
I am their caregiver.
Their scheduler.
Their cook.
Their transportation.
Their advocate.
Their daily companion.
And somehow, while carrying all of that emotional and physical responsibility, I still
manage the BINJE newsroom.
There are no real days off. Hospital stays do not stop newsletters from being published.
Doctor appointments happen between editorial meetings and incoming calls. Meals are
prepped while stories upload. Health care workers move in and out of the home while I
balance business reporting with caregiving, sometimes switching roles within the same
minute.
***
This is exhausting work — deeply human work — much of it unseen by the outside
world.
Yet every morning before dawn, I get up and do it all over again.
Not because it is easy.
Not because anyone is applauding.
But because the people depending on me — both the aging parents quietly watching
me from across the room and the publication relying on my steady hand — need me to
keep going.
And if I had to do it all over again, I would.
Because beneath the exhaustion, the deadlines, the endless phone calls and the
sleepless mornings is something stronger: love.
Love for the parents who once cared for me and now depend on me.
Love for the work I have devoted myself to.
Love for the purpose that keeps me getting up every morning before the sun rises.
I do it because I love my parents, and I love my job.
