I don't know how I missed the superb movie, Marvin's Room, when it was released in 1996. Perhaps I was too stressed in those early years after my husband's stroke to notice a movie that offers a quintessential statement about family caregiving.

John and I stumbled across it recently while channel surfing. Lured by a celebrity cast, I was all set for a couple hours of escapism when, whaddaya know, the room in Marvin's Room turns out to be the bedroom of a stroke patient.

I don't think John identified with the bedridden stroke patient. Marvin, according to daughter and caregiver Bessie, has "been dying for the past 20 years. He's doing it real slow so I don't miss anything." No, John has been quite busy living these 13 years since his stroke.

I WISH I could identify more with Bessie. Diane Keaton won an Oscar nomination in the role, but in truth, no one could live up to the standard of cheerful, self-sacrificing care that Bessie provides for her father and dotty, aging aunt.

Bessie has given her life to those two people, then discovers she has leukemia and will die unless she has a bone marrow transplant.

Bessie comes off especially saintly played against her sister Lee (Meryl Streep). A single mother with two sons, Lee has been estranged from the rest of the family. She lives in another state but arrives with the boys in response to Bessie's request that they be tested as possible marrow donors.

It's easy to judge Lee. When she realizes she may be responsible for the old people if her sister dies, she starts looking for a nursing home.

"In a few months, I'll have my cosmetology degree," she reasons. "My life is just coming together; I'm not going to give it all up now!"

But as Lee's story unfolds, it becomes less easy to judge. It is a poignant reminder that it isn't up to us to evaluate others when they opt for institutional rather than home care for a loved one. We can't possibly understand all that goes into such a decision.

THE MOVIE ends with a degree of uncertainty; there is no bone marrow match within the family. But I haven't ruined the ending for you if you want to see it someday, because that's not what the movie's about. It's about why we care for each other.

"I've been so lucky to have all that love," Bessie comments as she reflects on her life. Yes, her sister responds, acknowledging that Bessie is appreciated and loved by her father and aunt.

No, Bessie, explains, "I've been so lucky to have been able to love someone so much."

You can't be a caregiver out of duty, or because you want to get love. If those are your motivations, you'll burn out faster than a Fourth of July firecracker. I don't feel fortunate to be a caregiver, but I feel fortunate to love someone enough to be able to do the job.

Mary Koch is caregiver for her husband John E. Andrist, a stroke survivor. They welcome your comments at P.O. Box 3346, Omak, WA 98841, or e-mail marykoch@marykoch.com. Recent columns are on the Internet at www.marykoch.com.