Saying Goodbye to Brian: We Prepared for this Moment
We preach preparedness. We had prepared for the moment. It still hurts – a lot. There’s really nothing to be done about that. It’s a process. The only way out is through.
Brian and I worked for years to help elders and their care partners prepare for each step of the journey. But as my love’s battle with Alzheimer’s and vascular dementia entered advanced stages and recently took his life, the irony was that we were also preparing ourselves.
When Brian LeBlanc and I began our journey together, we knew we were stepping into something that would forever change our lives. Brian — my life partner, my best friend, my teacher, and my heart — had been diagnosed several years before I met him. One of the most charming things about him was that he was also living with purpose, joy and courage that inspired so many.
As a professional life-care planner, it seemed a match made in Heaven. Inevitably, after years of planning, preparing, learning and loving, I’ve had to say goodbye.
We Built a Life-Care Plan Because We Knew This Day Would Come
He’s gone now.
I’ve said those words aloud and in my head many times now, but they still sit heavy in my throat. I’ve spent most of my professional life helping others prepare for moments like this. I’ve taught thousands of care partners the importance of planning for the end — of understanding that our job as care partners doesn’t stop when a diagnosis is given. It begins.
I’ve stood beside families who’ve lost their loved ones, and I’ve helped them hold their grief with grace and structure. I’ve helped them build life-care plans fitting theirs and their elder loved ones’ needs up to and through the end.
Still, nothing — nothing — prepares you for when it’s your person. That’s the irony, isn’t it?
In our personal lives, Brian and I talked openly about death. We had the hard conversations. We wrote down the answers. He told me exactly what he wanted, and I honored every word. He had even recorded a YouTube video years before titled “A Message to My Future Care Partners.” I knew what to do, where to go, who to call, what paperwork to pull from the binder.
Yes, the binder.
You’ve probably heard me say it a hundred times before: “Keep your binder handy.” My book “Because I Love You: My Book About Me” was not just a tool for others. Brian and I also used its lessons to build our own life-care plan — a love letter, really, that said: “I care about you too much to leave you guessing.”
Because when the moment came, I didn’t want to be grasping for scraps of memory. I didn’t want to question, “Is this what he would’ve wanted?” I wanted to be fully present, not buried under chaos and confusion.
And because we planned, I was.
Bereavement & Grief Come in Waves — But So Does Peace
As I said before, just because you prepare for death doesn’t mean it hurts any less. But it does help you breathe through it. It gives you something solid to hold onto when the world feels like it’s falling apart.
In the quiet of Brian’s final days, I wasn’t scrambling for legal documents. I wasn’t sitting in hospital rooms filled with uncertainty. I was sitting with him. Holding his hand. Playing music he loved. Reminding him of all the lives he touched with his voice and his advocacy. Telling him — over and over again — that I was proud of him.
That I love him.
That I would carry on what we started.
And I will.
Brian lived and breathed the phrase we always use: a life worth living. It’s what we stood for in our advocacy. It’s what we built with the nonprofit #WeAreDementiaStrong.
And it’s the heart of our Life-Care Planning Masterclass. He knew what mattered most was not just extending life — but enriching it. Infusing every stage with dignity, joy, connection and love.
From Grief to Purpose — Why Our Caregiver Resources Work Matters More Than Ever
Brian’s death does not mark the end of our work. It is the reason our work exists in the first place.
When we created the Life-Care Planning Masterclass, we didn’t do it for accolades. We did it because we knew too many families were waiting until it was too late — until they were drowning in grief and questions and medical bills and guilt.
We did it because we wanted to hand them a flashlight. A guide. A way forward.
And now, more than ever, I want you to know: You don’t have to wait until the floor falls out from under you. You can (and should) prepare now. You can love your elder loved one enough to plan before the crisis. You can give them the gift Brian gave me — the peace of knowing exactly what he wanted, and the confidence to honor it.
Brian LeBlanc’s Legacy Lives On — In You, In Me, In All of Us
To those who’ve followed Brian’s journey, thank you. He read every comment and every message. He felt your love. And I believe, with everything in me, that his spirit is now guiding us forward — nudging us to keep telling the truth about dementia, to keep empowering care partners, to keep showing up for each other with open hearts and open minds.
So, please let this be your sign if you’ve been on the fence about planning, if you’ve been afraid to start the conversation. Let Brian’s life, and our love, remind you what this is really about.
Because in the end, it’s not about binders or forms or spreadsheets. They’re just a part of it. It’s about peace. It’s about legacy. It’s about love.
We plan because we care.
