After my mother died, I found a new purpose in caregiving

For nearly 10 years, I was my mother’s caregiver.

I didn’t think of myself that way at first. I was just a daughter doing what needed to be done—managing medications, helping with daily tasks, sitting beside her through long nights and harder days. When she passed away at Halifax Health Hospice in Volusia County, she died in my arms. And when that chapter of my life ended, I was left with grief, exhaustion, and a question I never expected to ask at 55 years old: What now?

Three months later, I enrolled in a Certified Nursing Assistant (CNA) training program at CareerSource Brevard Flagler Volusia.

That decision didn’t come from a career plan. It came from something much simpler. While caring for my mother, I had watched hospice nurses show compassion, patience, and dignity—not just to her, but to me. They inspired me. I realized that caregiving had deeply impacted and helped me, and I wanted to keep helping others in a way that mattered.

On February 20, National Caregivers Day, millions of Americans were thanked for the care they provide. That recognition is important. But what we don’t talk about enough is what happens to caregivers after the caregiving ends.

Across the country, nearly one in four adults — about 63 million people — are family caregivers, according to the latest national data from the National Alliance for Caregiving (NAC) and AARP. Many of them provide care for years, often the equivalent of a full‑time job. And many, like me, step away from traditional employment to do it. When caregiving ends, we don’t just lose a role—we often lose income, confidence, and a clear path forward.

Caregiving takes a toll on your health, your finances, and your sense of identity. But it also teaches you things you can’t learn in a classroom: patience, empathy, problem‑solving, and how to care for someone on their hardest days. Those skills matter — especially in healthcare.

With the right support from local workforce partners and a national nonprofit named Dwyer Workforce Development (DWD), I was able to turn my caregiving experience into a career. DWD works closely with local training providers and workforce boards to offer support such as tuition assistance and wraparound services. As a Dwyer Scholar, I received help that made all the difference — transportation assistance, encouragement, and guidance that helped me believe I belonged in a classroom again. I became the first person in my cohort to graduate.

Today, I work at John Knox Village of Central Florida, rotating through Alzheimer’s care, rehabilitation, and private care. I love my residents. In one of my first months, I helped a resident progress from a wheelchair to a cane — and eventually back to driving. Moments like that remind me why I chose this path.

Florida, like much of the country, is facing a healthcare workforce shortage—especially in direct care roles. At the same time, there are millions of caregivers who already know what this work requires. We are an untapped workforce, hiding in plain sight.

Caregivers don’t need pity. We need pathways.

That means recognizing caregiving as real experience, not a gap on a résumé. It means investing in training programs that meet people where they are — especially older adults re‑entering the workforce. And it means embracing the Dwyer model of providing wraparound support, because life doesn’t pause just because you’ve decided to go back to school.

On National Caregivers Day, I hope we do more than say thank you. I hope we ask how we can support caregivers not only during their caregiving journey, but after it ends.

With the right support, caregivers like me can continue doing what we’ve always done — showing up for others — while also building a future for ourselves.

Missy Garzona is a caregiver and a CNA. She lives in Deltona.