By Dr. Qwynn Galloway-Salazar
“People think the hardest part is the end, but the hardest part is being invisible.” This sentiment, shared by a caregiver who spent over a decade caring for her Navy Veteran husband, has stayed with me because it echoes what far too many caregivers experience in silence.
This May, as we honor the Month of the Military Caregiver, I am reminded that service does not end when the uniform is tucked away. It endures in the unseen, often uncelebrated hours caregivers spend holding the weight of a nation’s gratitude.
According to the RAND Corporation’s 2024 report, America’s Military and Veteran Caregivers: Hidden Heroes Emerging from the Shadows, there are an estimated 14.3 million military and Veteran caregivers in the United States. But while the numbers are sobering, it is the humanity within that data that matters most. These caregivers are the living infrastructure of compassion, each gesture, each moment of care, a reinforcement of our nation’s promise to its heroes.
As an Army Veteran, the spouse of a combat Veteran, and in my work as a death doula and compassionate communities builder, I have spent decades witnessing the strength of military caregivers. I have seen them carry not only the physical weight of care but also the emotional, spiritual, and cultural weight of military service. They are spouses, siblings, children, and neighbors, often managing it all: the fear, the logistics, and the grief that comes before the goodbye.
That’s why organizations like Gentiva are so vital. As one of the nation’s leading hospice providers, Gentiva doesn’t just treat Veterans; they recognize them. Their teams are trained to listen deeply, bear witness to military service stories, and support caregivers as they transition from care partners to survivors. Whether it is helping navigate VA benefits or simply sitting in silence while holding space, they are building not just services but a system of sustained compassion that continues long after the final salute is rendered.
However, compassionate care cannot be the sole responsibility of healthcare systems. It starts with us. Right now, you could be living next door to a military caregiver. They might never tell you what they are carrying. But what if you showed up anyway? What if we all did? What if our neighborhoods, barbershops, libraries, churches, schools, and local businesses became small pockets of support, helping to lighten the load?
As the Month of the Military Caregiver comes to a close, let’s move beyond symbolic gestures. Let’s build systems and communities that do not just talk about support but live it out loud.
To every military caregiver reading this: I see you. I honor you. I stand beside you.
