Her mother was dealing with cancer, and the last year had been especially painful for the entire family. Her father had to work. She became the main caregiver. Her younger brother has autism, "And he becomes very upset with any change."

She had no idea how to handle everything that happened.

Her mother's illness understandably upset her brother. After her mother died, her brother was "lost." She also felt in a daze. The same with her father. Even when you know it's coming, the impact is emotionally devastating. She talked about feeling drained. She mentioned praying, but "not much would come."

Some religious types won't like this statement, but there are times when we are too weary to pray.

When I interviewed Wayne Dawson for a recent column about his second battle with jaw cancer, the Fox-8 TV anchor mentioned feeling empty. Dawson also is the pastor of Grace Tabernacle Baptist Church in Lyndhurst. His body had taken a beating from mouth surgery and chemotherapy.

He mentioned Romans 8:26-27: "In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God's people in accordance with the will of God."

I love the phrase, "Wordless groans."

Or perhaps, we pray the same thing over and over, "Oh, God ... Oh, God."

Sometimes, just sitting quietly in God's presence is praying. Psalm 46:10 reads: "Be still and know that I am God."

Caregivers often feel guilt after someone in their care dies. They think about what else they could have done.

As Psychology Today's Sophia Dembling wrote: "We feel guilty for what we did. For what we didn't do. Because we took our loved one to the hospital. Because we didn't take our loved one to the hospital. Because we let the doctor do something. Because we didn't insist the doctor do something. Because we didn't drag our loved one kicking and screaming to the doctor. Because we practiced tough love. Because we were too lenient ..."

There may come a point where there are no "right" answers. All the options are bad. The best you can hope to do is avoid picking the worst one.

Even the doctors don't always know the best course of action. How are you supposed to know what always is the wisest move? Give yourself a break when you start to second-guess yourself.

There sometimes is a sense of relief after the person in your care has died. In some long-term care situations, you reach a point where you think, "It's not going to get better. It will just get worse. I wish it were over."

Then the person dies.

At first, you are sad. But then comes that sense of a burden being lifted. I felt that way after my father died following a long battle with strokes.

The same when my mother in-law passed away from chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD). My wife spent a lot of time with her. I often took the overnight shifts. She needed oxygen to breathe. Her lungs deteriorated. Her energy disappeared.

More than once she told me, "Getting old is not for cowards." The same was true for the caregivers.

When the person dies, you feel "guilty" because you feel relieved. That is natural. In fact, it's healthy. Your life can't be all about the person you cared for. It is time for you to move forward with your life, and this gives you a chance to do that.

That often happens. You are thrown into a crisis situation. You think, "I never signed up for this ... I have no idea how to handle this."

You need to ask for help. That can even come online in terms of support groups. Talk to people at your place of worship. Connect with others by phone. Don't isolate.

It helps to talk with someone who has been through a similar ordeal. Under this type of pressure, there is a temptation to think "This will never end." But it will, one way or another.

Talking to someone who has been through it can be very helpful. Over the years, I've talked to a lot of people who have dealt with strokes in their family, because they read about my father's stroke.

I always end praying with them, even if part of that prayer deals with the "wordless groans" from the book of Romans. Praying "I don't know how to pray to about this" with someone else who also feels that way is one of the most powerful prayers. It's an honest-to-God prayer about how we don't know all the answers.