I’m on a step ladder in a pantry in Daniel Island, tracing my finger along the largest collection of cookbooks I have ever seen. I find Martha Stewart’s Pies & Tarts circa 1985 and turn out of the pantry to sit on the couch with Tish, a hospice client with Cove Concierge.

We thumb through the book together, reminiscing about the memories of recipes she had tried in her lifetime of baking and cooking. Tish tells me stories of pastry lessons in Paris, Pad Thai in Thailand, and we discuss our mutual love of culture, food, and art. We turn to page 94, Lemon Curd Tarts, and a sparkle glistens in Tish’s eye. “This one, please.”

Later that night, in my own kitchen, as I bake the pâte brisée (page 198) and stir the lemon curd over the stove for 10–12 minutes over medium heat, I consider the extraordinarily flavorful life of Tish.

I think of her travels across the world where she collected silver serving dishes, antique mirrors, and Persian rugs. I think of the way she starches and presses her linens — pillowcases and all — and the tiny cursive lettering on stationery in her wardrobe notating the size and fabric type of each impossibly perfect set. I think of the dresses she made for her granddaughter, for every milestone imaginable, each one hanging neatly in the closet next to her sewing machine. I think of her little dog, drinking purified water and nibbling on green beans cooked just right in matching porcelain bowls.

As I pour the lemon mixture into the tart shell and place it in the fridge to set overnight, I feel the gravity of the responsibility we carry: the duty to create a moment of comfort, connection, and dignity for someone who has lived so fully.

The next morning, I walk into Tish’s home carrying the tart, cut her a slice, and hold my breath for her first bite. She smiles wide and says, “This is orgasmic!” before asking for a second helping.

Tish passed a week later, surrounded by her family, her little dog, and leftover tart still waiting in the fridge.

In the world of caregiving, we are so deeply fortunate to be welcomed into our clients' homes, where we are given access to centuries' worth of stories, lifestyles, and the families they built. We are in the unique position to be part of the most intimate, sacred areas of a person’s life — and it changes us. It reminds us, always, that aging is not a diminishment, but a continuation of a life well-lived.

As needs increase, it is easy for society to slip into seeing our elders as burdens. But when we have the honor of walking beside them, holding their hand through their final chapter, we realize that what they need is not less care, but more — more dignity, more humanity, more love.

At Cove Concierge, we believe every story deserves to be cherished. Every last tart, every last memory, every last breath.