I write from the premise: the past is not a prophet; at best, it is only a teacher.

So, what has the past taught us? ​
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The Change That Changed Us.

All forms of dementia have insidious designs.

Yet I wasn't ready for this tipping point. Yes, all the stories I read about the course Alzheimer's takes predicted this. I still was not ready.
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Last year on the morning of February second, I woke to hearing screams from Fran for help.
​She had fallen in our master bathroom and was unable to get up.
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Since that fateful day her footsteps have not walked on the floors of our house.
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This year I lived through what I never dreamed would happen to us.
​We now live miles from each other. Alzheimer’s disease has done its terrible work.
​But our love for each other remains firm.

She tells me often how much she loves me, even when she has difficulty remembering my name.
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The caregiver's grief​
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Even though our love for each other transcends the loneliness we both endure.
​My grief remains a constant in my life.

You see, on one fateful day a change happened that changed us.​
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I visit with her almost every day to bear witness to how drastic this change was for us.
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It is the grief of two being one, yet alone.

I do not think the friends of a couple dealing with dementia understand how difficult this is for the caregiver. I'd like to read your thoughts on the above ten-word sentence. Respond at rich@richard-armstrong.com.​
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What I miss the most is that the 'we' has become the 'me.' Alone in decision-making. Alone at the breakfast table.
​It is a chronic grief. An unending grief with no ceremony defining closure.​
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I'm not asking for pity, but rather understanding. There are millions in America enduring the grief of Alzheimer's. They're sitting beside a loved one. Traveling the awful downward road that dementia brings.

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​It's the long goodbye, and I, along with others, am living it day by day.

And I'm not ready to say goodbye.

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​It's a two-person disease.
​The person taking care of the person knows what's going on, which can be sad. ​
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Yet there is the hope that only God can supply.

Here it is in the Bible. ​
​This morning, I read these two verses as part of my devotions.​
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​These two verses sustain me in my grief. God encourages me in His secret place. ​
​Even though my grief is a constant in my life. ​
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Because of His grace, I can sing songs of victory.​
​I rest in Him to guide me through this year.

I know He watches out for my wife and me.

My hope is for everyone to experience His great love and care He has for us.
​I pray the God of all comfort will comfort every caregiver today.

My encouragement

I'm a Christian, but I'm a realist too. This means I know we live in a world with sicknesses that need our attention. Not just prayer, but actions.

Please make the change before the change changes you. Take the steps to understand the power dementia has to change your life. Read about the disease and take the steps you can take to help navigate the changes.

If you have a hint that something is changing, please speak with your doctor. Your doctor can direct you to the professional help you require. I'm thankful we had a doctor who understood we required extra help. I encourage you: do not avoid what you think is happening. Believe me. It is a long road, and you'll need your minister, a counselor, and an M.D. to give you guidance.

A book I recommend is The 36-Hour Day by Nancy L. Mace, MA, and Peter V. Rabies, MD, MPH. It is a guide to help those who suffer from dementia, but most of all for the caregiver.

Read more of the essential life lessons from an experienced octogenarian in Armstrong’s Timeless Views here. It’s Free.

Please write your comments to rich@richard-armstrong.com. I do read everyone. It gives me joy to know I'm helping others traveling this road.