Tag: writing
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I Remain in Darkness by Annie Ernaux
Annie Ernaux’s I Remain in Darkness is a raw, fragmented account of her mother’s dementia — exploring shame, guilt, care, anticipatory grief and the strange experience of losing someone who is still physically here. It made me reflect on how conversations around dignity have changed, and on my own dad’s illness.
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The shortest day, over and over
I visited my dad on the Winter Solstice, the shortest and darkest day of the year. Dementia feels like living at a threshold — between past and future, daughter and carer. Advanced dementia, to me, feels like the shortest day, over and over again.
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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.
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Care home visits and old photos
I visit my dad in the care home and sit beside him, showing him photos of my children in their school uniforms. When he reaches for my phone, I swipe to an old album of us together. A picture of him, young and strong, carrying me as a baby, hits me.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
dementia in the family 