If you don’t journal or write through the experience, find another way to process this shrinking world that expands within you. Talk to a friend, take walks, paint, or knit… engage in any mode of expression that can receive some of what flows through you.
So you think it’s already too late? Tell them anyway. Maybe it will seep through the broken hippocampus. If it doesn’t, your words and love will fill the space between you, connect you.
Go in, whether your person is dying at home or in a facility for their safety and comfort. Normalize dying. You won’t be sorry. The dying have beautiful gifts if we’re willing to enter, sit with them, see them. And your visit is a gift.
Almost everything will slip away on the Alzheimer’s journey. Those moments when an air pocket of their essence bubbles to the surface are almost everything. A reminder of the person we’re losing. A hint that they’re still with us.
Against all odds, we found flickers of brightness, a smile, pointing at a flower, recognizing a face, even happiness when the house was full of family and friends.
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