The Grief of Watching a Parent's Memory Fade

For my upcoming book on Becoming a Resilient

Caregiver, I sat down with a woman who had cared for her

husband through Alzheimer's. He was diagnosed in 2014 in his

early 60s. She retired after 40 years of work to be home with

him, and she made herself a promise. She would keep him at

home no matter what. For a while, she did, but the disease kept

taking more of him. He started wandering out of the house

toward the highway, and she could not always get him back.

Then came the day she couldn't get him back at all. She stood

in the middle of the with a man she loved. Cars coming, and she

hit the end of what she could do alone. Right there, she prayed

out loud, Lord, I can't do this by myself anymore. I thought I

could, but I've got to have help. We'll come back to what that

prayer set in motion. But

first, welcome to Daily Devotions for Busy Lives. I'm

Bart Leger. I've been talking with caregivers for this book,

and the woman you just heard from is one of them. Something

comes up in almost every conversation. These men and

women were grieving people who were still alive. A husband

still breathing in the next room. A mother who still knew their

name most days. already they were losing them. It has changed

how I think about my own people and the time I still have with

them. Maybe you know what that feels like. You begin to grieve

long before the funeral. It shows up when your father asks

you the same question three times in an hour. Or when your

mother calls you by your brother or your sister's name. The

person who raised you is losing pieces of themselves right in

front of you. And there's nothing you can do to stop it.

You're watching someone you love disappear a little at a time.

And you're expected to keep smiling and keep going. People

ask, how your dad's doing? And you don't have words for what it

is to mourn a man who's sitting right there at the table. And

that grief, it's real, even though nobody's died yet. And

it's lonely, because the world doesn't necessarily have a

category for it. There's no casserole for the slow goodbye.

No card that says, sorry your mother forgot your wedding. So

you go through it mostly by yourself. And you wonder if

you're allowed to grieve someone who's still there. You are. And

there's an old prayer in Scripture that speaks right to

where you are. Long before any of us faced a diagnosis, Moses

prayed a prayer about time. Psalm 90, verse 12 says, So

teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of

wisdom. Numbering your days means facing the truth that time

with the people you love is short and precious, and letting

that shape how you spend it. Moses was asking for the wisdom

to treat each day like it mattered, because each one does.

Here's what that wisdom looks like when your parent is fading,

or maybe your spouse. You may not have the father or the

spouse you had 10 years ago. The person who fixed everything may

be gone already in ways that used to define them. But you

still have this version of and this version won't be here

forever either. So, numbered these days, don't wait for the

parent or the spouse you remember to come back before you

love the who's here now. That means speaking the words that

need to be said while there's still someone to hear them. Tell

your father you love him, even if he can't say it back the way

he used to, and say the thing you've been saving for the right

moment. Some of the caregivers I talked with said their one

regret was waiting. Sure, there would be more time than there

was. Then bring what you're grieving to God. He is not far

from this. He's with your parent or your spouse, the one losing

their memory, holding them even in the confusion.

She got him to a hospital, and they admitted him. The next

morning, he was bedridden, and no one could tell her why. Sure,

her decision on that highway had pushed him over the edge. She

called it torment, sitting by his bed, grieving a husband who

was still breathing. Slowly, she came to see it another way. She

had asked God for help, and in her words, you don't know how

he's going to help you. She believes he answered, keeping

her husband off that road and other people safe, too. Her

advice to anyone in the same place is simple. Reach out for

help and pray. The Lord, he will pull you through it, she says,

but it's going to be hard. Listen to that line again. You

don't know how he's going to help you. She asked for help at

the end of what she could do, and he answered in the way she

never would have chosen. But yet, he pulled her through. Here's

today's challenge. Think of the person you're grieving while

they're still here. Do one thing today that you would regret

leaving unsaid. Call them or sit beside them and tell them what

they have meant to you, even if they can't fully take it in. If

they're past the point of understanding, say it to God on

their behalf and let him take it from there. Number this day.

It's the one you'll wish you had back. Father, some of us are

grieving people who are still alive. We're watching someone we

love lose themselves a piece at a time, and we don't have the

words for how much it hurts. Teach us to number our days.

Give us the wisdom to love the person in front of us today and

the courage to say what needs to be said while there's still time.

Be near to the ones who are fading and hold them when their

minds can't.

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these devotions coming every week. You can give at

dailydevotionsforbusylives.com slash support. Thank you so much.

Thanks for joining me on Daily Devotions for Busy Lives. with

the one who's fading, and with you who loves them. Number these

days while you have them. Come back next time for more

encouragement to help you live grounded in God's truth. Until

then, God bless, and have a great day.