Spend One Day Without Asking if They Remember
A note on supporting loved ones with dementia.
When we watch a loved one battle memory loss, our natural response is often to make an attempt at salvaging their memories.
We can flood them with photos, notes, and reminders. We can grasp for signs that our efforts are working: “Do you remember who I am?”
When I first visited my grandfather in the nursing home — his then new home — my grandmother had already pinned a dozen photos to the corkboard across from his bed. She pointed at each photo. She asked my grandfather — who sat in a wheelchair at the foot of the bed — if he remembered.
I can’t say this approach was wrong. On many days, my instinct was the same: to remind him that I am his granddaughter.
Many times the photos and reminders helped spark memories.
Still, some of my best new memories with him are of the moments when we simply talked — no reminders, not one do-you-remember question.
On those days when I grounded myself in the present, days when I spoke to him as any other person I loved, I discovered something valuable:
Although he didn’t always remember my name, my grandfather still knew who I was.
Sometimes he would regard me as his mother or a childhood friend. That meant he knew I was someone important.
Sometimes he would immediately speak to me in Norwegian. That meant he knew I shared his culture.
On a few occasions he spoke to me as if I were a friend from church. One day he pointed out the window, reminding me of a church down the street. That meant he knew I believed in God. In some way he remembered our past conversation about faith.
I encourage you, Reader, to continue reminding your loved one of who they are. Flood the corkboard with photos.
But you may also find comfort in this: allowing them to remind you of who they believe you are.
Try — for one day, even one afternoon — to connect without asking if they remember.
If you find the connection you both need, do it again the next day.
I write much of this in the past tense because nursing home visits are extremely limited during to the pandemic. My grandfather is still living. Thoughts and prayers are appreciated. For his comfort, wellbeing, and peace.
And here’s another story about dementia…
