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Seven Months

I've been watching some video clips on social media about families who are battling with their loved ones who have Dementia. They seem to handle it so well, and it makes me wonder, how do they do it, and for how many years?

My father started showing symptoms in October 2025, but he was only officially diagnosed with Dementia around January 2026. After that, his health started to decline so quickly. His symptoms got worse, and those seven months became the most depressing and lowest point of our lives. We tried our very best to understand his episodes and took care of him during the days when he could no longer take care of himself. Most days were filled with chaos, exhaustion, and tears.

Lately, I've been thinking about whether we really did our best. I've been asking myself if we gave up too easily during the days when we had no choice but to tie him for his own safety, and during the time when we had to leave him in a mental health facility for two weeks. I even find myself wondering if we gave up too easily during his last breath.

Some people with the same illness have several years before they pass away. For him, it only took seven months, and then he was gone.

I've been dreaming about him lately. In my dreams, he was angry because he felt like we had ganged up against him. He didn't believe us when we told him that he was mentally sick, and back then, we had no choice but to do the things we did. These dreams haven't helped with the thoughts I've been having lately. Somehow, they make me sad and leave me wondering if he understood why we had to make those difficult decisions.

I'm really praying for his soul to find peace, to let go of all the anger and pain in his heart, and to be able to enter God's home.

Maybe this is part of my grief too, looking back and questioning every decision we made, even though at that time, we were only trying our best to keep him safe and take care of him.
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