ementia stole my dad—not all at once, but piece by piece
advertisement
Dementia stole my dad—not all at once, but piece by piece. It came quietly at first, with small lapses that were easy to overlook, like forgetting where he set down his keys or losing track of a conversation. But as the months and years passed, those small cracks widened into gaps I could no longer ignore. His memories began to fade like photographs left out in the sun, his words slipped away like water through open hands, and the man I had always leaned on slowly began to disappear. Watching him change has been one of the most painful experiences of my life, because I am not just losing his memories—I am watching parts of him vanish before my eyes.
Yet even in the midst of this cruel disease, there are moments that shine like light breaking through the darkest storm. When I look into his eyes, I still see love. I still see the father who raised me with patience, who guided me with wisdom, who held me when the world felt too big. Dementia may have taken away his words, but it has not taken away the bond we share. That bond exists beyond memory, beyond speech—it is written in the very fabric of our hearts.
There are days when it feels like I am grieving a loss that hasn’t fully come yet, mourning pieces of him that dementia has already claimed. But then there are moments—fleeting, precious moments—where he smiles, or squeezes my hand, and I know that the love between us is still alive and strong. This disease may change how we connect, but it cannot erase what we are to each other.
So while dementia has stolen so much, it has not stolen everything. It has taught me to value presence over perfection, touch over words, love over memory. My dad may not remember every story, every detail, every chapter of his life—but I do. And I will carry them for both of us, keeping them alive as long as I breathe. Though dementia changes everything, the bond we share remains unbreakable, stronger than any memory lost. 💔😢👴
advertisement
Watch Video Below