- Andre Morrow grew up in fear of dad Sam’s violent rages after the Marine veteran, who was suffering form PTSD, returned home after doing two tours of duty during the Vietnam War
- Becoming the full-time caregiver for his now 92-year-old dad helped fully heal the father and son’s once-troubled relationship
- Experts say Andre is one of nearly 100 million Americans who spend upwards of 40 hours a week or more serving as caregivers for family members
Shortly before Andre Morrow’s mom, Odette, died from breast cancer in 2013, she made her son promise that he would do everything he could to allow his dad, Sam — who was in failing health — to live out his final days in the couple’s longtime home in San Jose, Calif.
But four years later, when Andre and wife Leimomi paid a surprise visit to Sam’s house, they were horrified to find the woman whom the family had hired to care for him verbally abusing the 92-year-old Korean and Vietnam War veteran.
“She was yelling and screaming at him,” Andre recalls in this week’s issue of PEOPLE. “So I fired her on the spot.”
Hours later, over a cup of coffee with his wife at a nearby Starbucks, Andre made a decision that not only changed his life — it helped him heal a relationship with the man who he says made his childhood a living hell.
Andre, 65, retired from his 20-year career as a city parks supervisor, moved into his father’s house and became Sam’s full-time caretaker.
“I basically do everything for him now,” Andre says of his father, who has been diagnosed with dementia, post-traumatic stress disorder and heart disease. “I feed him, bathe him, shave him, give him his meds, wash his clothes, cook his dinner, even take his dog to the vet.”
Andre is one of more than 100 million Americans who spend upwards of 40 hours a week looking after relatives, according to the Elizabeth Dole Foundation. That number is growing each year. And some 14 million of them are providing care for military veterans with injuries and illnesses from their service.
“We call them ‘hidden heroes,’ ” says Steve Schwab, CEO of the Elizabeth Dole Foundation, a leading group for these families. “They’re providing care at a level much higher than the rest of the nation’s caregivers and that can take a physical, mental, emotional and financial toll.”
Years ago, the idea of Andre one day becoming his father’s around-the-clock caregiver would have been unthinkable, he insists.
Growing up in the ‘60s and early ‘70s with his four siblings, he lived in fear of Sam, who served two deployments during the Vietnam War as part of the controversial CIA-backed Phoenix program that has been linked to numerous assassinations and the use of torture on suspected enemy operatives.
For more on Andre and Sam Morrow and their caregiving journey, pick up this week’s issue of PEOPLE, on newsstands now, or subscribe.
“He came back pretty messed up, violent and abusive,” says Andre, whose siblings were largely spared from their father’s violence.
“It got so bad that once when I was 15 at dinner, he shanked me in the forearm with a fork,” Andre says. “I stood up, pulled it out, set it on the table, then walked outside and just wept.”
At the time, nobody spoke about PTSD, so Sam — who spent 30 years in the Marine Corps and often awoke in the middle of the night, panic-stricken, fearing for his life whenever he heard the sound of aircraft flying over the family home — suffered in silence.
Meanwhile, Andre was left to struggle with his own trauma. “I was filled with hate and anger,” he admits.
He credits his loving wife and his Christian faith with helping turn his life around.
And on that afternoon in 2017, when he made the decision to care for Sam, Andre had begun to make peace with the man responsible for his pain-filled childhood.
“When I came and told him, ‘Dad, I’m going to retire to take care of you,’ the man just broke down and cried,” Andre says. “He looked at me and said, ‘Of all my kids, I never would have expected you to do this.’ All I could tell him is, ‘You’re my father. I love you. I want to take care of you.’ ”
For the past seven years, father and son have been housemates as Andre looks after every aspect of Sam’s life. “It’s been a tough journey,” he says. “He’s almost like a child.” (Leimomi, 62, lives in the couple’s home two miles away, where she offers a respite during Andre’s downtime.)
A turning point came two years ago after Sam had to be rushed to the emergency room and a hospital social worker, noticing how tired Andre looked, told him about the Elizabeth Dole Foundation and their work to help empower military caregivers.
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The nonprofit helped Andre learn about a number of resources he never knew were available from the Department of Veterans Affairs, ranging from a wheelchair and hospital bed for Sam to providing an attendant who comes in once a week for 40 hours, allowing Andre to take a much-needed break.
“It gives me some me time,” he says, “to go home, see my wife and recharge, which is so important for my mental health.”
Tackling the role of full-time caregiver to Sam has proven tough at times, both physically and emotionally. But it’s also brought the once-distant father and son closer than Andre — who now fully understands the devastating impact that military service had on Sam — ever imagined was possible.
“He can’t stop apologizing for the past and often breaks down crying, telling me, ‘I don’t understand why you love me so much,’” says Andre. “But I always just tell him, ‘Pops, we live for today. Let it go.’ Then I kiss him on his bald head and think about how lucky we both are.”