Dad's new best friend

Dad was in the midst of his dementia journey when he found a new best friend.  It wasn’t someone else living with dementia, but instead, someone who had never had any experience with anyone living with dementia. 

We found a gem.

Mike was a natural; he instinctively knew what to say and do to make dad feel comfortable, seen and heard.  Mike wanted to know dad’s life, his happy moments and what brought a sparkle to his eyes.  He was willing to learn and listened to what worked for us.  And he was prepared to make mistakes and say “I’m sorry” where necessary.  He totally accepted dad for who he was and learnt to adapt to dad’s dementia. 

He allowed dad to be the best version of himself.

Mike taught me many things.  He highlighted the importance of engaging Dad in his “happy place”.  He was always patient and willing to have the same conversations about sailing over and over again.  In doing so, he totally immersed himself in dad’s world, even if it didn’t fit the current reality.  And he always added the right amount of humour to the conversation that dad could understand, which is an art in the world of dementia. 

He also showed me how to mindfully support dad with dignity and grace.  Mike would guide dad’s hand to help him find his coffee cup, spoon or the door handle.  He never forced dad to do anything (even though it was often in dad’s best interest), and never pointed out the fact that dad couldn’t do something.

Mike highlighted the importance of accepting dementia without shame or embarrassment.   Throughout my childhood my parents embarrassed me, which carried into their dementia; dad losing his social filters, slurping his coffee or not understanding what someone said to him.   I would say “oh pa, don’t say that” or apologise to others for his behaviour.  Instead, Mike took it all in his stride, accepted dad 100% for who he was, and gave dad the dignity and respect he deserved. 

In doing so, everyone else around dad did the same.

Mike visited dad most weeks for more than 10 years.  When dad was on his deathbed and Mike came to visit, it was evident by dad’s calmness that he had been waiting for Mike to come and say goodbye.   Mike had become family, with a deep connection to dad that we only fully realised in that moment. 

I often hear that a person living with dementia has become withdrawn and doesn’t say as much.  I can’t help but think that perhaps this is because we don’t give people living with dementia the opportunity to feel comfortable and connected however that may look, or find their ‘happy place’, and nor do we willingly accept their world of dementia if it doesn’t fit our reality. 

If every time you spoke and you found yourself in a confusing, unfamiliar and disrespectful environment, how many of us would continue talking?  Unless we had ample cognitive function and the ability to stand up for ourselves, I think most of us would just ‘shut up’ too.

A person living with dementia may not remember what was said or done, but they will always remember how someone made them feel. 

Thank you Mike for always leaving dad feeling respected, happy and content.