Balancing two very different roles revealed unexpected lessons. In the overlap, what initially seemed like divergence became the foundation for stronger teams and meaningful growth.
For the last several years, I managed two demanding, all-consuming projects: one as a Project Director at Sparkbox, and the other as the full-time caregiver to my father, who had advanced dementia.
By day (and often night), I was responsible for leading multidisciplinary teams through complex, deadline-driven work. At the same time, I was also leading another kind of team, managing every aspect of my father’s care, from feeding and medications to helping him through confusion and frustration, all while preserving his dignity and comfort as best I could.
This is not a story about struggle, though there was plenty of it. It’s about how those two roles shaped one another, and how, unexpectedly, the tools that made me a strong project manager helped me care for my dad. And in return, caregiving gave me something even more profound: a deeper kind of leadership that I now bring back into my work.
A Legacy of Leadership
My father was a pharmacist by training but a businessman by instinct. He owned pharmacies, sat on bank boards, and led land development ventures. His life was full, but his leadership was about service, not ego. He was calm, capable, generous, and steady. I realize now that he practiced a form of servant leadership long before I had a name for it.
As his health declined in recent years and dementia took hold, that same grace remained. Even as he became bedbound, he still thanked caregivers, smiled at visitors, and tried, often very successfully, to make us laugh. He gave all that he had, even as that all diminished.
When the Caregiver Hat Goes On
When he needed full-time care, there was no decision to make. I am so fortunate to be able to work remotely, and I found ways to restructure my days so I could be present for him. That meant working in bursts, often between managing daily care routines like repositioning, feeding, or managing medications. It meant learning a new kind of project: one that never shipped, never had a kickoff, and certainly never had a clean roadmap.
But my instincts as a project manager didn’t shut off, they just rerouted. I built care schedules, made documentation spreadsheets, color-coded appointments and tasks, and relied on the same prioritization and risk assessment skills I use with clients. When someone’s health and comfort are on the line, you learn to distinguish between “urgent” and “important” quickly.
Emotional Intelligence: Relearned
Perhaps the biggest crossover wasn’t logistical; it was emotional. Dementia doesn’t follow logic. You have to meet the moment with patience, not explanation. What works on Monday won’t work on Tuesday. That experience deepened my understanding of emotional intelligence. Not as a management concept, but as a muscle that must be exercised daily.
Now, when I’m leading a project and a client seems unsettled or a team member is quietly withdrawing, I find myself reaching for that same mindset. What’s not being said? What emotion is driving this behavior? My ability to navigate those moments, especially in higher-stakes settings, wasn’t sharpened in the proverbial boardroom, but in a quiet room at home with my father.
Clarity as a Form of Care
Dementia reshaped how I think about communication. I learned to speak slowly, clearly, without condescension. I try to drop filler words. I stopped assuming shared context. All of that translated directly into how I lead projects, especially remote ones.
Clear, kind communication isn’t just about efficiency. It’s about reducing friction for the people around you. That could mean rewriting a project update so it’s skimmable for an overwhelmed stakeholder, or checking in with a teammate after a tough business call. These are small moments, but they ripple outward. I’ve seen the effect they have on both morale and outcomes.
The Agile Care Plan
Every caregiver knows this: no plan survives first contact with the day. Even with perfect prep, things shift. There are bad days, setbacks, and new needs you couldn’t have anticipated. In that way, caregiving was the ultimate agile project, only the sprint never ends.
But that experience also made me more resilient as a PM. When clients pivot mid-stream or requirements shift late in the game, I now bring a different energy. Not one of frustration, but of “okay, let’s reframe and keep going.” That calm isn’t fake, it’s learned and enhanced by this experience.
Quiet Leadership: A Final Gift
What surprised me most was how much I learned from my father’s receiving of care. He couldn’t lead meetings or make decisions anymore. But he modeled grace under dependence, kindness without control. That taught me something about leadership I’d never considered: that sometimes, the most powerful influence comes from how we show up when we’re at our most vulnerable.
I’ve really tried to carry that lesson into how I lead teams and projects. I’m more patient. I delegate more intentionally. I pay closer attention when someone on my team is quietly struggling. I also advocate differently, especially for junior team members or quieter voices in client meetings. Leadership, I now believe, isn’t just about outcomes. It’s about presence.
Bringing Humanity Into Work
I didn’t set out to merge my personal and professional lives, but caregiving made that inevitable. What I learned at home didn’t stay there; it now shows up in my work every day. Whether it’s in how I build trust with clients, design timelines that account for real human capacity, or ensure everyone on a call feels heard, the line between life and work has blurred, and I can honestly say that I’m better for it.
This isn’t a pitch. It’s a reflection. But if I’ve noticed anything, it’s that projects tend to succeed when they’re run with care, not just competency. And that care, genuine care, so often comes from experience, often from outside of work.
In Gratitude
I miss my dad every day. But I carry him with me. It’s with me in how I lead, how I listen, and how I show up for the people who count on me. If there’s a legacy to honor, it’s that.
He was my most meaningful project and the one that shaped how I now lead.
