Tag: love

  • Grief in dementia

    Visiting my dad now, I barely recognize him, and he doesn’t recognize me. Dementia changes everything—memories, personality, connection. Grieving isn’t a waste of time; it’s a way to honour what’s lost. And even in the sadness, there are moments that remind me he is still here, still my dad.

    Grief in dementia
  • Running on empty while loving someone who’s forgetting

    Life feels like a long-distance run right now—school runs, work, dinners, collapse, repeat. I know I need to visit my dad, but dementia makes every visit tender and painful. He hardly knows me, and sometimes my presence unsettles him.

    Running on empty while loving someone who’s forgetting
  • Visiting my father with dementia

    “Your teeth look great!” my dad said – the first full sentence in a long time. It landed like a gift. Visiting him in the care home is never easy. Dementia has taken so much, but that small moment of clarity, of kindness, reminded me he’s still here, in glimpses.

    Visiting my father with dementia
  • One step forward, two steps back

    Visiting my dad in the care home is a mix of quiet miracles and heartbreak. Dementia shifts constantly – progress one day, confusion the next. He said my name, something I haven’t heard in so long. I carry that small moment with me, even as everything else keeps slipping away.

    One step forward, two steps back
  • Walking, wandering & dementia

    When dementia took my father’s ability to walk, it marked the loss of more than movement – it was the end of our shared rambles, his independence, and a lifetime of direction. This reflection traces his journey from avid walker to wheelchair, and the emotional terrain we now navigate as a family.

    Walking, wandering & dementia
  • Father’s Day

    Father’s Day felt hollow without my dad at the table – he’s back in the care home after a fall and hospital stay. Watching other families with grandfathers stung. I miss his quiet wisdom, his help, his presence. Even everyday problems remind me of what we’ve lost, piece by piece.

    Father’s Day
  • Birthdays & guilt

    I reflect on feelings of guilt and inadequacy surrounding my father’s recent birthday celebration in a care home. I compare this guilt to “mum guilt” and discuss the pressures of balancing family, work, and self-care. Despite the weight of these emotions, I seek positivity and self-compassion in navigating dementia.

    Birthdays & guilt
  • Thinking about loss and dementia

    I visit my father at the care home, grappling with the complicated emotions of being unable to care for him full-time due to his dementia. I think about the questions that have been raised by his nurse about the end of his life and hold onto moments of connection with him.

    Thinking about loss and dementia
  • He’s in a care home now

    I reflect on the challenges of placing a loved one with dementia in a care home after a lengthy hospital stay. Although initially heartbroken, I recognise the comfort my father feels there despite the emotional pain of separation. This difficult reality seems particularly hard to accept at Christmas.

    He’s in a care home now