There's a version of those eighteen months that could have been so much harder than it was, and it comes down to two people: Chris, my manager at CMO Stores, and Ben, the Marketing Director.
I've written before about what it was like caring for my dad while working full time and trying to still be a dad and a partner myself. What I haven't written about yet is how easier that was made by the people I worked for, and I think that's a story worth telling too, because it doesn't happen for everyone, and it should.
What support actually looked like
It's easy for a company to say the right things about supporting staff through difficult times. It's much rarer for that to translate into what actually happens when someone needs to leave at short notice, or turns up exhausted from a 3am drive, or simply isn't themselves for months on end.
At CMO Stores, it translated into exactly that. Flexible hours when I needed them. Working from home after three hours of sleep. Time off without a fight to get it. Compassionate leave when things were at their worst. It wasn't grudging, and it wasn't something I had to justify over and over. It was simply there, offered rather than requested.
That distinction matters more than people realise. When you're already carrying the guilt of not being enough for your dad, your partner, and your son all at once, the last thing you have capacity for is also having to fight your employer for the basic space to cope.
Chris
Chris was my manager, and he made the day to day possible. He was the one who saw, week to week, what I was carrying, and adjusted around it without making me spell it out every time. That kind of support is easy to underrate because it doesn't look dramatic. It looks like a manager who notices you're running on no sleep and doesn't pile more on. It looks like flexibility that's offered before you have to ask for it.
Ben
Ben was a director, someone whose support didn't have to reach me but did anyway. Having that kind of backing from further up the business meant the flexibility Chris gave me wasn't just one manager quietly bending the rules. It was understood, and safe. I never had to worry that being visibly struggling would cost me anything at work.
What I'd want other employers to take from this
I think about how differently those eighteen months could have gone if I'd worked somewhere else, somewhere that saw compassionate leave as a box to tick, or flexible hours as a favour rather than decency. I don't think I could have shown up for my dad the way I did if I'd also been fighting for the right to be there.
If you're an employer or a manager reading this, the version of support that matters isn't hard. It's noticing before someone has to ask. It's making the compassionate leave genuinely compassionate. It's trusting people to manage their own time when their world outside work has fallen apart, instead of asking them to prove it. Chris and Ben did all of that, and it meant I got to be a son first, during the time it mattered most, without also losing my job or my career in the process.
Why this belongs here too
The Bridge of Lights is about the people we lose, but it's also about everyone who makes it possible to keep showing up for them while we still can. Chris and Ben did that for me. If you're an employer, a manager, or a colleague of someone going through this right now, this is what actually helps. Not grand gestures. Just space, trust, and the flexibility to be where you're needed most.