December 17/2002
It must be nearing Christmas. I was answering an email from a son whose father has Lewy Body Dementia and who was looking for answers, for hope. As I wrote back to him, hoping to help and support him, I started to cry...so many images of my father's face came flooding back to me in an instant. I was not prepared...but then I never am. My father in his wheelchair smiling, looking lost, looking frightened, frustrated, alone, terrified...these images will never leave me as long as I live.

I should be used to this but I never am. I spoke at a conference in Ottawa last week about my father, my work, what drives me. I was doing fine and then as I described the last week of dad's life -- how he raised his arms up and hugged me I just lost it. It is so important that I help people realize that inside a dementia sufferer are a heart, a soul, a spirit that need the acknowledgement of loved ones...I believe it so strongly that it breaks my heart.

We all look for hope, for the chance to ease the suffering of one we love. Sometimes the most we can do is just be there, with quiet words and a calm touch and words that say we will never abandon you no matter what.