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Meeting Them Where They Are
- 13 hours ago
- 6 min read
Grief, Dementia, and Love That Stays
Grab a cup of coffee and sit with me a minute, because I want to talk about something tender, and it's a conversation I wish more people had before they found themselves in the thick of it.
It's that strange, achy kind of grief that comes with dementia. Not the grief at the very end, but the kind that sneaks in way earlier, while your loved one is still here. Still holding your hand. Still parked in their favorite chair, still stealing the good cookies off the counter. And yet somehow, not quite the person you've known your whole life.
If you've ever looked at your mom and thought, "That's not really Mom anymore," and then felt a hot little flash of guilt for even thinking it, let me put your mind at ease: you are not a terrible person, and you have not lost your marbles. You're grieving. Plain and simple. And it counts.
The Grief Nobody Warned You About
There's actually a name for this. The clever folks call it "ambiguous loss," which is a fancy way of saying it's a loss with no clean edges. When someone passes away, as awful as that is, at least the world knows what to do. There's a funeral. The casseroles start showing up. People hug you and say, "I'm so sorry." Everybody understands.
But dementia? Your person is still right here, so nobody quite knows what to do with your sadness, and honestly, neither do you. You're missing someone who's sitting across the table asking you to pass the salt. That's a weird, lonely spot to stand in, and almost nobody hands you a map for it.
I've heard folks describe it as "losing my mom one piece at a time." A dad who forgets he was ever a dad. A husband of fifty years who leans over and sweetly asks his wife if she's the nice lady who brings the meals. Little moments that land like tiny heartbreaks, one after another. And each one deserves a good cry, even though there's no service to mark it.
Why It Hurts in That Particular Way
Here's the tricky part. Grief is supposed to move in one direction. Dementia didn't get that memo. You'll get a good day, a flash of the old joke, that familiar sparkle in the eye, and your heart just soars. Then, poof, it's gone again, and you're right back in the missing. Up and down, sometimes in the same afternoon. It's an emotional roller coaster nobody bought a ticket for, and it is flat-out exhausting.
It also flips your whole world upside down. The person who raised you now needs you to do the raising. The one who always had the answers is suddenly looking to you. Trying to grieve your parent while also becoming their caregiver is a lot to juggle, and feeling worn thin by it doesn't make you ungrateful. It makes you a regular human being having a completely reasonable reaction.
What I Want You to Know
After years of sitting with families right where you are, here are the things I find myself saying over and over.
Your grief is real, and the clock started the day you got the diagnosis. You don't have to wait for a goodbye to start missing someone. Grieving now doesn't mean you're throwing in the towel or loving them one bit less. It just means you're paying attention.
The guilt is normal, but don't believe everything it tells you. Feeling relief after a hard visit, getting mad at this rotten disease, missing your person while they're still here, none of that makes you a bad son or daughter. That's just love, working overtime under a whole lot of pressure.
Your person is still in there, even when they're tough to reach. Mom might not remember your name, but she can absolutely still tell whether the room feels warm and safe. Connection doesn't have to travel through memory. It can ride in on a held hand, a favorite old song, the smell of something baking, or just the sound of your voice. You're still getting through, even on the days it sure doesn't feel like it.
PRO TIP: On the hard days, give yourself a break and quit playing quiz show. Skip the "Do you remember me?" It only spotlights the gap and leaves you both feeling lousy. Instead, meet them right where they are. If they think it's 1972, well, welcome to 1972. Follow their lead and hunt for one little moment of connection instead of the whole person all at once. A shared cup of tea counts. A giggle counts.
Letting Yourself Grieve the Living
Grieving someone who's still alive can feel almost sneaky, like you're jumping the gun. You're not. Letting yourself feel the sadness now, instead of shoving it in a drawer, is exactly what helps you keep showing up with patience and love for the long haul. Because the grief you stuff down doesn't actually go anywhere. It just leaks out sideways later, usually as pure exhaustion, a short fuse, or crying in the cereal aisle for no reason you can explain.
So go ahead and say it out loud to somebody safe: "I miss my mom, and she's still here." Have the cry. Mark the little losses. And hang onto this: missing the person your loved one used to be and treasuring the person sitting in front of you are not opposites. You can do both. Most days, you'll have to. And that's okay.
PRO TIP: Find your one person or your one place where you don't have to be the strong one. A dementia caregiver support group, a good friend, a counselor, your church, whoever. Saying the hard stuff out loud to someone who gets it lifts a surprising amount of weight off your shoulders. You were never meant to lug this around solo.
You Don't Have to Carry This Alone
If you're the one holding the whole show together, the caregiving, the appointments, the grieving, the everything, here's the part I really want to land. You do not have to be the daughter, the nurse, the memory-keeper, and the rock, all day, every day, with no backup. Leaning on help, whether that's family, a support group, or professional caregivers like us, is not waving a white flag. It's how you keep loving well without running your own tank all the way to empty.
Dementia asks families to grieve in slow motion, and there's just no neat and tidy way to do it. But you don't have to do it perfectly, and you sure don't have to do it alone. That love underneath all the grief, the love that makes the whole thing ache so much, is the very same love that's still wrapped around your person right now, exactly as they are today.
And that love still matters. It always will.
A Few Places to Turn, Right Here at Home
You don't have to go looking for all of this on your own, so let me save you some Googling. Here are some good people and resources right here in the Steamboat and Routt County area, plus a couple of trustworthy websites worth bookmarking.
For your grief
Northwest Colorado Health – Grief Support. Free bereavement groups open to the whole community. There's a Tuesday group in Steamboat (11:00 a.m.–12:30 p.m. at Heart of Steamboat Methodist Church, 736 Oak Street), a men's grief group the first Wednesday of the month, and a group in Hayden the first and third Mondays. They also run a free Grief Resource Center at 1475 Pine Grove Road, Suite 202. Just give a quick call first before you drop in. Reach Taylor Payne, Bereavement Care Coordinator, at 970-291-4791 or tpayne@northwestcoloradohealth.org.
For the dementia journey and caregiver support
Blue Skies Nursing. We're here for you! Give us a call 970-200-8035 or schedule a consultation with us today. We can work with you to support you and your loved one as you navigate this journey.
Memory Café of the Yampa Valley. Come to a local memory café, a monthly social gathering in a safe and engaging space for individuals with memory loss, their caregivers, and family/friends, offering opportunities for interaction, support, activities, and shared experiences. Taking place the first Monday of the month from 1-2 p.m. in the community room at the Heart of Steamboat United Methodist Church (736 Oak St, Steamboat Springs, CO 80487).
Alzheimer's Association 24/7 Helpline – 800-272-3900. This is the one I tell every family to put in their phone. Real people, any hour of the day or night, for the 2 a.m. worries and the "I don't know what to do next" moments. Their website (alz.org) is a goldmine, and the Colorado Chapter (alz.org/co) can point you to the nearest caregiver support groups.
Serving Older Adults in Routt (soarroutt.org). A friendly local starting point that connects families to aging and dementia resources, including the Alzheimer's Association and long-term care support.
Dial 2-1-1 (or visit 211colorado.org). One free call connects you to local health and human services when you're not sure where else to begin.
Great websites to bookmark
alz.org – The Alzheimer's Association. Plain-language guides on every stage, caregiving tips, and that 24/7 helpline.
dailycaring.com – Practical, down-to-earth caregiving articles that read a lot like this letter.
theconversationproject.org – Gentle help for talking through wishes and care decisions before you're in a crisis.
caregiver.org – The Family Caregiver Alliance, with solid resources and a focus on caring for you, too.
And of course, if you ever want a real person to help you sort out care at home, that's exactly what we're here for. Never hesitate to reach out to us at Blue Skies Nursing.
We're here for you.
Together... we've got this!
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