For the past two years, my father-in-law has lived with us as we managed the effects of his dementia, trying to keep him connected to family and to save his finances for his long-term care. But recently, we reached a turning point: his safety. Night after night, he began to wander, determined to find things lost to time—an old car, a wife who passed years ago. We couldn’t watch him around the clock, and it became clear he needed the security only a memory care facility could provide. This was not easy, but we had to move him to a place that could give him 24-hour care.
As anyone in this position knows, caregiving has a way of permeating every part of life. It's more than managing daily routines; it’s carrying the weight of someone else’s confusion, loss of autonomy, and daily struggle with a world that no longer makes sense. For my father-in-law, each day begins with confusion—he doesn’t know where he is, and in his mind, he could be in a hotel, waiting to go home, or even somewhere he needs to escape. When he calls 911 to "get me out," I understand why. I imagine his fear of waking up in an unfamiliar place, locked away from the world he remembers.
From the perspective of someone still working and managing this journey, has been mind-numbing at times. I wanted to be there for him, to keep him safe and connected, but I also wanted to preserve my family and work commitments--here is my guilt. These last two years have been a constant juggle between work, my own life, and the caretaking of his condition.
This experience has not been without personal growth. I have learned to find compassion in the hardest of days, patience in moments when his frustration tested me, and deep empathy for him and those whose memories are slipping away. But it’s also left me with a lingering sadness—there’s no recovery from this path he is on. Each goodbye is a bit more final, each memory a bit dimmer, as he loses touch with the things and people he once held dear.
<sigh>
It is not easy to balance work, family, and the care of an aging parent. It is a constant reminder of the fragility of time and the importance of finding peace with each step of this shared journey. Work will go on, but these moments with family, however difficult, shape us in ways that no project or task ever could. It does diminish our agility, but it does make us more grounded in why we work. It also, unfortunately, grounds us in the crappy reality that some things we can not fix. <hugs> all.
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