You know what’s just incredibly painful? Watching dementia’s progression in a previously strong, incredibly independent person. You go with them to a doctor’s visit. They answer the doctor. Say everything’s fine. But then you shake your head and say, “Remember this happened last week. And something else happened a couple of weeks ago.”

It’s not like they’re trying to lie to the doctor. They don’t remember. Maybe they’re feeling great at the moment and really don’t know why they even need to see the doctor.

And I suppose I should be “used to” it, because I’m around him all the time. But how do you really get used to watching someone lose so much of what made them themselves?

You don’t, really.

Honestly.

There’s a lot of prayer.

Tons and tons and tons of patience.

There’s the making the best of every day.

The finding the good in every day.

The grieving of every loss.

The celebrating of small wins.

Even when your heart is breaking over and over and over again.