I heard Dolly Parton’s Coat of Many Colors today, and suddenly I wasn’t just hearing a song.
I was remembering people.
People I cared for. People I laughed with. People I sat beside. People I said goodbye to.
Some songs don’t just play in the background. Some songs carry people back to us.
That song is about a coat made from different pieces of fabric, stitched together with love. To some people, it may have looked simple. Maybe even like nothing special.
But to her, every piece meant something.
And honestly… that reminds me so much of long-term care.
Over the years, I’ve met so many residents, and every single one of them added something different to my life.
Some were funny. Some were quiet. Some were stubborn. Some loved music. Some loved coffee. Some wanted to tell the same story every day. Some didn’t say much at all, but somehow still found a way to reach your heart.
Each one became a different patch in my own coat of many colors.
A patch of laughter from the resident who always had a joke ready.
A patch of wisdom from the one who had lived through things I could only imagine.
A patch of patience from the ones who taught me that not every moment has to be rushed.
A patch of tenderness from the residents who just needed someone to sit beside them, hold their hand, or listen.
And some patches were harder to carry.
The goodbyes. The empty chairs. The rooms that felt different after someone was gone. The songs that suddenly meant more because you remembered who loved them.
I remember one resident who loved Coat of Many Colors. And I remember what that song meant in those final moments.
It is hard to explain unless you have been there, but sometimes a song becomes more than a song.
Sometimes it becomes comfort. Sometimes it becomes a memory. Sometimes it becomes a goodbye.
That is the thing about caregiving.
You do not just clock in and clock out without being changed.
People leave pieces of themselves with you. Their stories. Their smiles. Their sayings. Their favorite songs. Their little routines. Their hard days. Their beautiful moments.
And before you know it, your heart is stitched together with memories of people the world may have overlooked, but you never will.
My coat may not be perfect. It has some heavy patches. Some joyful ones. Some that still make me cry. Some that make me laugh out of nowhere.
But every piece matters.
And I would not trade it.
Looking back, I realize I was as rich as I could be… wrapped in my own coat of many colors.
Because to me, long-term care was never just a job.
It was people.
And every resident became part of the coat I carry with me.
– Leah M Adkins