Dementia is cruel in ways words can barely capture. It doesn’t arrive with one devastating blow—it creeps in slowly, stealing little fragments of the person you love until one day you realize how much has been taken. With my dad, it started with small lapses, tiny details that slipped through the cracks. At first, it was easy to dismiss as aging, just little forgetful moments. But as time went on, the forgetting grew heavier, and piece by piece, the man I once knew began to fade before my eyes.
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There are days when he struggles to find the words that once came so easily to him. His voice, once steady and full of wisdom, now stumbles over sentences, leaving me wishing I could give him back what the disease has stolen. His memories—stories of his youth, the lessons he taught me, even the names of people he once loved so deeply—are often locked away behind a fog he can’t fight through. And yet, even with all that dementia has taken, it hasn’t stolen everything.
Because when I look into his eyes, I still see him. I still see love. The disease may have taken away so many of his memories, but it has not erased the bond between us. In his touch, in the way he sometimes smiles when I sit beside him, in the rare but precious moments when his clarity returns, I am reminded that the essence of who he is remains.
Dementia tries to redefine him, but it cannot take away the love he gave, the love he still carries in his heart even if he can’t always express it. I’ve learned to stop searching only for who he was and instead embrace who he is now—because love exists beyond memory, beyond words, beyond time.
Though the man I grew up with has changed, our bond endures, stronger than any illness could break. Dementia may take many things, but it will never take away the love between a father and a child. That love is eternal, unshakable, and it reminds me every day that while memories may fade, the heart never forgets. 💔😢👴
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