Sometimes, your pain is your loved one’s gain. Everyone wants to “be there” for the people they love, especially when they are sick. However, really being there doesn’t always mean fluffing a pillow or serving chicken soup. It can mean carrying out duties that can tear you up inside, but need to be done, like closing a checking account or ordering a casket. For me, it meant breaking the news of my father’s cancer to my mother. It all comes back to that same simple fact—you’re doing something for the person you love that she can’t do for herself.

When my father and I found out the news—that he did indeed have pancreatic cancer and had about one year to live—he asked me the biggest favor he’d ever asked anyone. He asked me to tell my mother that her husband was going to die. The seven hours I waited for her to get home from work were a torture I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I rehearsed what to say a hundred times, but it didn’t make it any easier. The only way I got through it was to remember that I was doing this for my father so he wouldn’t have to.

Moments to savor can come at any time. There are times in life when we expect to make memories—going on special trips, celebrating family milestones, attending a much-anticipated recital. But the truth is, moments to remember can come at any time. The key is to have your antennae up, and to always be aware of the situation around you. An off-hand comment that doesn’t seem significant at the time can end up meaning the world to you later, and what may be an arduous task in one moment, may be the memory that gets you through later on.

When he collapsed one night after getting out of his bed, it had become clear that my dad was going to need more help than my mom and sister could provide. He was still coherent and had repeatedly expressed his fervent desire to die in his own bed, and not in a hospital or hospice care facility. Keeping him in that bed and keeping him safe was going to be our next big challenge and I seized the opportunity to step in. For the next week, I slept with him, getting up multiple times to walk him to the bathroom and back to bed. On some occasions, we fell asleep holding hands.

While I was totally exhausted from stress and lack of sleep, this experience is something I look back on fondly: the fact that when my father needed me the most, in his darkest hour, that I was there for him gives me a sense of pride that carries with me to this day. I am so honored that he wanted me to be there with him.

Breaking down the wall is one of the best gifts you can give. Many terminally ill people will work hard to put on a brave face so as not to be a burden to their families. Yet chances are pretty good that behind that brave façade, they are afraid. At some point, they need to confront that fear, and share it with those closest to them. Make sure your family member knows you are there for him, and that it’s okay for him to not only be afraid but to share that fear with you. Doing so can and will be therapeutic for you both.

My father finally broke down after seven months of keeping his emotions inside. It was a very emotional day hearing him finally express his fears to all of us. For someone who had always been the strong leader of the family, this was a shocking loss of “control” for him. But you know what? By letting us all in, it made our job of caring for him much easier. It allowed us to understand what was going on in his head, so that we knew the best ways to keep him reassured. It was also a tremendous relief for him to let out his emotions, instead of trying to act strong on our behalf.

Laughter truly is the best medicine. Dealing with a loved one who is sick is serious— perhaps the most serious thing you’ve ever dealt with in your life. When your days become a barrage of doctors’ appointments and medical jargon, moods become somber and spirits are quickly diminished. It’s important to do something fun as often as possible.  See a movie, go to a comedy club, just sit around and tell funny stories. Spending day after day dwelling on the negative harms both the patient and her caregivers. If you’ve always enjoyed doing fun things together, it doesn’t change just because the person is sick. She will still enjoy a good laugh just like she always has.

I’ll never forget the days I spent watching the television show Curb Your Enthusiasm with my father when he was sick. I remember we started to watch an episode, and it turned out to be about a person who died and was buried with his golf club, which Larry David tried to steal.  I nervously looked over at my dad, and he was laughing his heart out.  By the end of the episode, we were both in tears—tears of joy—which were a nice change of pace after all the tears of sorrow we had cried.

Kids help patients feel “normal” and live in the moment. One of the best things about kids is their innocence. They may be aware of what is going on to a certain extent, but the next minute, they’re worried about their toy car, or going outside, or what’s for dinner. For a patient fighting for his life, being able to help with a toy car is a more-than-welcome distraction. It’s a chance to leave the reality of what’s happening and make someone else happy. Children are full of enthusiasm and they won’t treat a person differently just because they are sick. They can and should be a welcome breath of fresh air for the patient and his support group.

If there was one thing in this world that my father adored, it was his grandchildren. Even though their visits had changed from my father’s perspective, my children never expected anything other than to spend time with their grandfather. Those days spent watching movies together on the couch, or making trips to the grocery store were days that my father got to stop being the patient, and for a little while, just be a grandfather.

Finally—and most importantly—we don’t move on; we live on. After caring for a loved one with a terminal illness, does anyone really move on? The departed person will always be in your heart and on your mind. You won’t ever forget your parents, your spouse, or a sibling, and you shouldn’t have to. Moving on is what you do after a bad day at work. Living on is what you should do after the death of a loved one. Once the person we love has passed, life goes on, whether we like it or not.  Finding that peace of mind is the foundation that will always be there as a source of strength.