It all began innocently enough: a few misplaced car keys here and there. But soon, it escalated to forgetting his medication, and then even leaving perishable items like yogurt and milk in the cupboard instead of the fridge.
As a new mom juggling sleepless nights and endless responsibilities, I was overwhelmed. Maybe that’s why it took me so long to recognize the signs. Or perhaps, I simply didn’t want to face the reality.
When my dad received his Alzheimer’s diagnosis, I can’t say I was shocked—the clues had been there all along. Yet, the true impact didn’t hit me until much later.
My sister and I spent countless hours trying to care for him, commuting back and forth every day, often with one or two little ones in tow. We became his grocery shoppers and caregivers, constantly watching over him. He would heat meals in the microwave only to forget about them, and he often ate continuously, not realizing he had already filled his stomach. Medication times became a guessing game; sometimes he’d take it twice, other times not at all.
It became clear he couldn’t continue living alone safely, and we made the difficult decision to admit him to a nursing home. I knew it was the right choice for his safety, but it felt like a punch to the gut. Each visit was filled with his anger and accusations of abandonment. I understood it was the disease talking, not him, but every hurtful comment still stung. My heart ached as I watched the vibrant man I once knew fade away.
Now, my once strong, towering father is a mere shadow of his former self. On the good days, his humor and wit peek through, but he no longer recognizes his grandchildren. They’ll never know the man I grew up with—the one who could hold them up high or strum a guitar while singing their silly songs. All of these precious moments have been stolen from my children.
What frightens me the most is that Alzheimer’s runs in my family. My dad’s lineage is filled with those who have battled this relentless disease, and I can’t shake the fear that I could be next.
I find myself terrified of the possibility of losing my own memories. There are days when even simple names slip my mind. Yes, I’m a mom, and yes, I’m under a lot of stress. Forgetfulness often comes hand in hand with motherhood; I get that. But I’m talking about deeper fears—moments when I struggle to recall basic things, like the name of an object I’m staring at. “Cup, Emma,” I remind myself, frustrated with my own brain.
I picture my children, and the thought of forgetting them is unbearable. They are my anchors, the memories I cherish as the world around me gets overwhelming. How could I live a life where I don’t remember their quirks or the warmth of their embraces?
I look at my husband, dreaming of growing old together—traveling, reminiscing, and spoiling our future grandchildren. But the thought of not remembering him, of burdening him with my care, gnaws at me. I know he would love me unconditionally, just as I do for my dad.
I realize I can’t live in fear of what might happen. Worrying over a future I may never face isn’t productive. Yet, witnessing someone I love diminish into a shell of who they were is enough to spark fear in anyone’s heart.
I can’t stop Alzheimer’s; it’s beyond my control. When I visit my dad, I memorize every wrinkle on his hands and etch his face into my mind. I do the same with my kids, capturing their laughs and giggles for those dark days when I might need a reminder of the beauty in life.
Love, however, remains unscathed by the disease. My dad knows I love him, and I can still feel his love, even in silence. Each day, I ensure my husband and children know they are my everything. They will never question my love for them. Should there come a day when I can’t articulate it, they will carry my words in their hearts: “I love you more than you could ever know. You are my life, and you make my world beautiful.”
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In summary, the fear of Alzheimer’s is a haunting reality for many, especially when witnessing its impact on loved ones. The importance of cherishing memories and expressing love becomes paramount, ensuring that even if memories fade, the essence of love endures.