GLASSY EYES - January 10, 2025. Alzheimer's disease is a relentless and heartbreaking journey, not just for those who suffer from it but also for their loved ones. Witnessing your mother slowly lose her abilities, from talking to even basic self-care, can be extremely challenging. The glassy stare I describe reflects the deep impact this disease has on her cognitive functions and emotional state. The things that once brought her joy, like music, are now out of reach, leaving her in a state that can feel overwhelmingly silent and distant. Managing her dietary needs to avoid choking adds another layer of difficulty, emphasizing the fragility of her condition. While it is agonizing to see her in this state, it's also important to remember the moments of connection that may still exist, however small they may be. Finding peace in the moments we do share can be a source of strength.

RESTING - March 05, 2023. At this point in my mother’s Alzheimer’s disease, the room feels both familiar and distant. She lies in bed, surrounded by the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the curtains, her once vibrant spirit now subdued. The disease has claimed much of her, leaving behind a fragile shell that occasionally brightens with a smile when she hears a familiar voice or a beloved song. The gentle melodies of soft music often fill the space, creating a peaceful atmosphere. It is a small comfort in the silent moments, a reminder of the joy she once knew. On some days, she finds solace in listening to "The Golden Girls." In many ways, she has regressed to a state of innocence, resembling a newborn in an adult’s body. Her needs are now simple yet profound, requiring care and attention that reflects her current reality. Each day unfolds with a rhythm dictated by her needs. We feed her, the simple act of holding a sippy cup now a shared moment of connection rather than routine. The comfort of our presence seems to reach her, even when words fail. Diaper changes and assisting her to sit up require both physical and emotional support, a reminder of the role reversal that this disease has wrought. As caregivers, we navigate the complexities of her condition with a balance of hope and acceptance. The journey is challenging, filled with emotional highs and lows, but in those small gestures—the smile, the soft laugh, the warmth of her hand—lie the remnants of a deep, abiding love that endures beyond the confines of her illness.

CARD - March 05, 2023. In this stage of my mother’s Alzheimer’s, her grasp on reality has faded significantly. Simple objects we once took for granted now seem foreign to her. I find myself watching as she holds a card, bewildered, and in a moment of instinct, she brings it close to her mouth as if it’s meant for consumption. The innocence of this act is striking; everything her hands touch is treated like a toy, a piece of food, or something to explore through taste, reminiscent of an infant’s curious nature. This behavior reflects the profound changes in her cognitive abilities, where recognition and understanding slip away, replaced by a primal sense of exploration. It’s a poignant reminder of the vulnerability she now faces. Each day brings new challenges, as we navigate the balance between helping her and respecting her fading autonomy. While this stage is heart-wrenching, it also invites moments of unexpected tenderness.

PRESENT - December 25, 2022. The room was softly illuminated, the faint scent of pine lingering in the air as the festive decorations adorned the space. In her hands, a Christmas box awaited, wrapped in cheerful paper, its bow , shimmering with holiday colors. My mother sat there, her gaze distant, tracing the outlines of the gift with unsteady fingers that no longer remembered their purpose. "It's a gift, Mom," She looked at me, her eyes clouded, the meaning of my words slipping through her like sand through fingers. She didn’t understand a word I said.

GRABBING - August 21, 2021. Alzheimer's has altered my interactions with my mother during photo moments. As I raise my phone, she instinctively reaches for it, revealing her confusion. Intended to capture smiles, these moments remind me of her unpredictability.

FRIEND - July 24, 2021. Sentimental items, like a plush Dalmatian, provide comfort and recognition amid memory loss. This toy, given by a son to his mother, symbolizes connection in an increasingly alien world. The mother's bond with the Dalmatian reflects joy and peace, showing that love transcends barriers created by the condition. Caregivers should ensure these small sources of happiness, as they greatly enhance the emotional well-being of those affected by Alzheimer’s.

LAUGHTER - May 12, 2021. Alzheimer's casts a shadow over the mind, changing unpredictably like shifting clouds. In response, her children unite in love, striving to illuminate her world for a moment. They create silly antics and playful noises to coax laughter from her. Each laugh is a small victory amidst the challenges. A giggle escapes her, sending ripples of joy through the room, briefly igniting a spark that connects her to the past.

MICKEY EARS - July 10, 2020. Capturing moments that reflect joy and love can often reveal beauty in the simplest of things. As my mom dons her Mickey ears, a playful spark lights up her expression, even if she doesn't fully grasp their significance. The Mickey ears, a symbol of fun and nostalgia, accentuate her cuteness, showcasing a side of her that bursts with happiness despite the challenges she faces. Every click of the camera immortalizes not just an image, but a treasured memory—a reminder of the love that endures, even in moments of forgetfulness. This photo captures a fleeting instance of joy, framing her beauty, innocence, and unyielding spirit.

DOLLY - May 17, 2020. Baby dolls are an excellent source of comfort for individuals with Alzheimer’s disease. The emotional connection that comes with holding and caring for a doll can provide a sense of stability and joy. In this case, the thoughtful gesture from her husband's cousin in sending a doll as a gift demonstrated a deep understanding of the needs of someone facing memory challenges. The attachment she formed with the doll highlights its importance in her daily life, offering her companionship and a source of happiness. It's a testament to how simple objects can play a significant role in enhancing the well-being of those with Alzheimer's.

HAIR CUT - January 31, 2020. Her hair became unmanageable, leading to a decision to cut it. Her older son, a hairstylist, did the cut. The results are beautiful, providing ease of maintenance and elegantly showcasing her features.

SCARED - December 25, 2019. As my mother’s Alzheimer’s progresses, the world outside her room becomes increasingly overwhelming. Each time she ventures out, the noise, the light, and the movements around her seem to intensify her confusion and fear. Tears often fill her eyes, a clear signal that the comfort she once found in familiar spaces is receding. In response to her distress, we have grown to understand the importance of her safe haven—the room she has adorned with cherished photos and familiar objects. This space, filled with soft, muted colors and gentle sunlight, has become a sanctuary where she can retreat. Here, she can escape the confusion and find solace in her memories, even if they are faded. We respect her need for solitude, allowing her to stay in her room where she feels the most at peace. Even as Alzheimer’s takes away her recollections and clarity, we aim to provide her with an environment where she feels safe and comforted, embracing the stillness that resides within her four walls. Each day, we monitor her needs, finding ways to connect through brief, gentle interactions that reassure her in her sanctuary. Letting her retreat into a world of her own choosing has become a gesture of love and respect, a way to honor the person she has always been while accepting the changes that Alzheimer’s brings. In her room, surrounded by love and familiarity, we find comfort in knowing that, at least for now, she is where she needs to be.

GRANDSON - May 11, 2019. Alzheimer's disease is a cruel thief, stealing memories and moments that families hold dear. My mother, a loving and dedicated grandmother, embraced each of her grandchildren with warmth and laughter. Her bond with them was evident in the way her eyes sparkled during their visits and how her stories painted their imaginations. Sadly, her youngest grandson will never experience the incredible woman she is becoming increasingly distant from. As Alzheimer’s tightens its grip, the essence of her love is hidden beneath the fog of confusion and forgetfulness. He will never know the whispers of encouragement she has given to all her other grandkids or the love she gave to them all. While he may never remember her embrace or the magical moments they could have shared, we will carry her spirit forward. We will tell him stories of her kindness, her laughter, and the joy she brought into our lives. Her love may be obscured by the limitations of the disease, but it is a love that will never fade in our hearts.

BIRTHDAY - February 22, 2019. Happy birthday to my mother. The 22nd of February is her birthday. Sadly, she no longer understands the significance of her birthday but she still enjoyed wearing the party hat and laughed when it was put on her. Regardless of what stage the disease is in she can always enjoy her birthday.

SISTER - February 21, 2019. My mother doesn’t always know who her sister is because of her Alzheimer’s disease. But sometimes, for a split second, she remembers her sister. In those fleeting moments, her eyes light up, and a smile traces her lips, as if she’s recalling a cherished memory from long ago. It's a bittersweet reminder of the bond they once held, the laughter shared, and the love that persists even when clarity fades. Those brief glimpses of recognition are both heartwarming and heartbreaking, intertwining joy and sorrow as we navigate this unpredictable journey together.

ROBE BELT - February 16,2019. My mother took her belt from her robe and wrapped it in her hair. Alzheimer’s can make you do things you would never think of doing. It’s an unsettling reality to witness someone you love struggle with a condition that alters not just memory but behavior.

GETTING HAIR DONE - JANUARY 18, 2019. Not all days are good days with Alzheimer’s. Sometimes getting ready to leave the house is a chore in itself. My brother is a hair dresser, so he will brush her hair for her so that it’s not messy when she leaves the house. This day was a not as good as other days. She had a doctors appointment and needed to get read for it. Brushing her hair kept upsetting her and she cried just like a child who doesn’t want you to touch their hair would do. Little things like this can upset someone with Alzheimer’s and they don’t even know why. My mother used to love doing her hair from dying it, to curls, to what ever she was in the mood for. Funny enough, she still sits and plays with her hair; sometimes trying to braid it.

THE CALM - January 18, 2019. My mother calms after a brief moment of distress while brushing her hair. Her emotions shift unexpectedly, highlighting the challenges of Alzheimer’s. One moment, frustration; the next, quiet resignation. These fluctuations are part of her experience, reflecting the disease's impact on her mind. I find solace in the calmer moments, holding onto them as anchors in her journey.

CHRISTMAS - December 25, 2018. Because of my mother’s Alzheimer’s disease, this was the last Christmas outing we could do with her. The bright lights and festive decorations, which once brought her joy, now became overwhelming. She would often look around in confusion, trying to grasp what was happening. It broke our hearts to see her upset, surrounded by loved ones yet unable to connect. Each moment felt bittersweet; we wanted to create memories but realized that her mind was unable to hold onto them.

MAGAZINES - December 13. 2018. Magazines bring her joy during her battle with Alzheimer's.

RIPPING PAGES - December 13, 2018. Magazines are something that seem to help keep her busy. Sometimes she’ll look through the pages, but, for the most part, she loves just ripping them apart, page by page. She always makes a mess when she does this but it’s okay, it’s an easy clean up. We have had a bunch of magazines donated to her just so she could enjoy destroying them. Whatever makes her happy.

JEZEBEL -November 29, 2018. Jezebel, my mother's cat, unknowingly brings comfort as my mother battles Alzheimer's. Each morning, the cat meows and stretches, her routine a steady source of love amid my mother's fading memories. While my mother needs support, Jezebel requires affection, intertwining their lives and highlighting the impacts of the disease. Although Alzheimer’s is challenging, it cannot erase the love present in these shared experiences.

BRAIDING - November 02, 2018. When my mother sits and watches TV she’ll also braid her hair. Something in her brain remembers how and it keeps her hands busy. People at this stage of Alzheimer’s needs to be kept busy at all times. This is also a good thing because her hair is a part of her and she can’t throw it on the floor like she does with everything else she puts in her hands. She has gone downhill so much this year and we are pretty sure it won’t be much longer before she finally forgets how to braid her own hair.

DIAPER CHANGES - September 30, 2018. One of the hardest parts of Alzheimer’s is diaper changing. My mother was so clean and proper that she would never have wanted to be like this. Her mental state now, however, is that of a bratty toddler. Sometimes she will soil herself and take her diaper off before we even have a chance to get to her. She’ll often smear the mess everywhere including her body before throwing her diaper. She doesn’t even know why she shouldn’t do this. This is were all the cleaning necessities come in. Attempting to get her into the shower also takes considerable effort because she fights like a toddler, not wanting to get in. She’ll also throw punches and kicks which makes it harder for us: her children, her caregivers. She even screams and cries just like a toddler who doesn’t want a diaper change or get cleaned up. Some mornings she’ll wake up and take her diaper off just to rip it apart and make a mess with it. It’s so heartbreaking to have to watch our mother go through this.

NAIL BITING - September 25, 2018. Lately my mother has been doing this thing where she bites her nails. She has always been a nail biter, but since her Alzheimer’s disease has progressed she hadn’t been doing it, until now. She’s returned to biting her nails, but now she’ll bite her nails to the point of making them bleed. Due to the excessive heat in the summer, we can only put a band aid on it. Once the weather cools down we’ll be getting her some gloves she can wear that will keep her hands warm but also keep her from biting her nails.

FACETIME - September 09, 2018. When my mother's mother had Alzheimer’s she would have to call her mom to speak to her until her mother could no longer speak, which was difficult mentally because her mother lived in another state. The best thing about today’s technology is the option to use Facetime on mobile phones. So the days of just hearing a voice is long gone for some patients with Alzheimer’s. One of her daughters lives in another state and will Facetime on her older son’s phone on occasion so they can see each other and talk. My mother can no longer form words but she will babble to her daughter on Facetime. Her attention span is short, of course, and she sometimes doesn’t recognize her daughter and just gives a blank stare at the phone before looking away at anything else that catches her eye. It’s hard watching her leave us day by day. Each day is something else lost from her and something new for us to adapt to.

LAUNDRY - September 03, 2018. Even with Alzheimer’s she still remembers how to fold laundry. It’s bemusing that she can still remember how to do some things and is unable to do so many others. This disease is so unpredictable. When she folds laundry she will put several articles of clothing on, not understanding what she’s doing. She will often sit for hours refolding clothes, no matter how many times she’s already folded them. Folding laundry is another thing we let her do since it helps keep her calm and busy, plus there’s very little risk of injury when she does it.

WALLET - August 26, 2018. My mother no longer uses her wallet for all her important stuff. Her son has taken over all of that for her and keeps it safe. Her wallet is now something she goes through, taking things out of and putting them back to keep her busy. Inside her wallet are old I.D. cards of herself and her husband’s, who is no longer with her. He passed away in 2012 from leukemia with mantle cell lymphoma. In 2012 she was still aware enough to know her husband was dying. Now, she can no longer speak words or remember his name. However, when she sees a photo of him, she knows it’s her husband. Maybe it’s something in her brain that won’t let her forget as if it’s embedded in her heart and soul. We may not understand why she still knows who he is but she does.

NIGHTGOWN - August 13, 2018. My mother's mother passed away in 2003 from Alzheimer’s, the same terrible disease that Cristina is going through. This is one of her mother’s nightgowns that she had hanging in her closet. It buttons in the front which makes it easy for caregivers to dress and undress when needed, especially for moments when diapers need to be changed. It keeps Cristina busy as well since she plays with the buttons, opening and snapping them closed, repeatedly. It’s tragic that her mother once wore this during her time with Alzheimer’s and now Cristina wears it during her own battle.

PURSE - August 06, 2018. Giving someone with Alzheimer’s their purse with simple things inside keeps them busy. Cristina carries her wallet with her husband’s photograph inside. She likes looking at it. She will go through her wallet and continuously pull things out and put them back in. She also has a Rubik cube she can play with. She doesn’t know what it does, but it’s something that keeps her busy. Alzheimer’s does have a meaner side, however. When she gets angry she’ll hit her caregivers with her purse, but you can’t take it away from her because it will upset her even more. Her purse is everything to her at this stage of her disease.

WHEELCHAIR - July 23, 2018. It was only a matter of time before my mother would be confined to a wheelchair. Since she can no longer balance herself when she stands or walks, the doctors have said she needs to be in one from now on. It’s hard for her to adjust to this and she still wants to get up. She doesn’t understand why she has to be in a wheelchair and there is no way to make her understand. This is just one of the sad parts of this horrible disease.

DRESS - July 15, 2018. As my mother's disease becomes worse over time. She is unable to properly dress herself without the aid of another. This image showcases her wearing a dress intended for little girls over her own clothing when she managed to get ahold of some clothing that was sitting on the table we were planning to donate.

RUBBER GLOVES - July 10, 2018. My mother no long understands why you should or should not wear certain articles of clothing. Alzheimer’s has caused her to take dish washing gloves that don’t belong to her and wear them around the house. She no longer knows how to clean anything. Even if you put something in her hand to clean with, she won’t know what to do with it. Sometimes she will mimic us when we clean, but she usually has a blank, confused look on her face. She will often throw a fit, like a toddler, if you try to take the gloves off so we just let her keep them. She now has four sets of gloves. This photo captures her relaxing in her chair, wearing a pair of dish washing gloves.

PIANO - July 01, 2018. My mother sits at the piano, her fingers dancing across the keys with surprising grace. Each note she plays fills the room, a melody that seems familiar yet foreign. The truth is, she has never touched a musical instrument in her life. But in this moment, Alzheimer's has blurred the lines of reality, allowing her to believe she has always been a musician. Her husband was a jazz musician who played professionally through the years, teaching all 5 of their children music. She was the only one who never learned music, but would enjoyed listening to the music her family would play on a daily basis. Currently, one of her daughters plays to this day, which gives her the chance to get out of the house to watch her daughter's concerts. As my mother plays, I watch her smile, lost in a tranquil reverie. The language of music, once spoken so fluently by her family, bridges the gap between her past and present, providing a soothing reminder of the beauty that once filled her life. In this serene moment, she is a musician, if only in her mind, and for that, we are grateful.

PAINTING - June 18, 2018. My mother used to love to paint. When she was in her 20s she would do paint by numbers with me. It was something that was calming for her to do during that time. Now she is back to painting again but she would sometimes forget to add water to her water colors, so we add the water onto her paints to help her. As her Alzheimer’s progresses, painting seems to frustrate her. She can only sit and do one painting before she is done. If given another page to paint she gets upset. It’s no longer the calming moment it once was for her.

GIFT - February 18, 2018. Even though her face remained neutral, there was a spark in her eyes as she fished through the bag filled with birthday gifts. Each item held a memory, a connection to happier times. Yet, her expression could quickly shift; one moment she might laugh softly at a forgotten trinket, and the next, she could become agitated without warning. In those moments of frustration, the disease had a firm grip, manifesting as sudden outbursts. She might yell or lash out, her emotions spiraling in unpredictable waves. It was a harsh reminder that the joyful moments were intertwined with a challenging reality. Understanding this duality was essential. The frustration she expressed was not truly her; it was the Alzheimer's layering over her spirit. Those who loved her knew to navigate these turbulent waters with patience. As they offered gifts and shared smiles, they kept in mind that behind the unpredictable mood swings, there remained a heart still capable of joy, even if it was sometimes overshadowed by the struggle.

PHOTO ALBUM - Sept. 12, 2017. My mother was looking at a photo album she hadn’t seen in years and remembered the names of everyone in the photos. Now when she looks at the album she can no longer name anyone. This was just one of those moments when her brain was normal, and they’re becoming more and more rare.

TOWEL - March 28,2017. Alzheimer’s disease has not yet taken away the ability for my mother to put her hair up in a towel. This simple action, once a daily routine, now feels like a small victory. As she reaches for the soft fabric, I watch her fingers move with a familiarity that has not faded, as if her muscle memory holds strong against the encroaching fog of the disease. With practiced grace, she twists it around her head, the same way she has done for years. In that moment, there is a glimpse of the woman I know—confident, capable, and serene. It’s a reminder that even in the face of memory loss, fragments of her identity and habits remain intact. Each towel-wrapping moment becomes a cherished memory in itself, a fleeting connection to the past. This routine provides comfort, not just to her but to me as well. It’s as if the act of putting her hair up in a towel bridges the gap between who she was and who she is now, illuminating the strength that lies within her even as the shadows grow longer.

ELEPHANTS - Nov. 28, 2016. The common adage is that elephants never forget and unfortunately for my mother her disease has made this phrase false. However, elephants are also a symbol of patience and that is something she has and still has despite her condition. Having raised five children, there is no denying the patience that she has. One would think as she grew older she would become more and more impatient but she proved that stereotypical belief wrong with, not just her kids, but her grandchildren as well. She loves to wear this bracelet, which was made by Dakini Zito DAZling by Design, and she keeps it on as much as possible. Each day as she tries to put it on, her patience shines through as she does not give up, even on days where she struggles to remember how. CLICK ON IMAGE TO GO TO DAZLING BY DESIGN.

PRINCESS - Nov.18, 2016. Guardian, protector, best friend. Many titles can be given to my mother’s dog Princess and they’d all be accurate. There is no doubting the love that she has for her dog and vice versa. Princess is very protective of her and she’s unafraid to snap or bite at the first sign of provocation. It’s no secret that dogs show loyalty to their family and Princess is no exception. In fact, she exemplifies the love and loyalty that only a dog can show to a loved one.

RAINY DAY - Oct 24, 2016. It’s never been a secret that my mother and her late husband enjoyed rainy weather. They never saw it as gloomy or depressing but instead viewed it as beautiful and relaxing. Despite my mother’s disease she still enjoy rainy days even though she may complain about it being too cold now. The lovely thing about a sliding glass door is she can close it when she’s cold and can still enjoy the rainy weather that she’s always loved.

COLORING - Oct. 09, 2016. It’s often the simplest things in life that can generate the most happiness. One would think that a person with Alzheimer’s looks sad or pathetic when coloring a coloring book. However, she really enjoys her coloring and the smile that comes to her face brings a smile to her entire family. She often loves to color and will sit down for a long while just coloring her heart out. Truly, it’s a beautiful sight to see.

DISHES - Sept. 12, 2016. As her disease worsens, many tasks that she used to be able to do become a lot more difficult. It starts off subtle but then grows into more noticeable difficulties. Take for instance her ability to wash dishes. It’s simple and just about anyone can do this task, however, for Cristina, she is unable to discern between the clean dishes and the dirty dishes, often just combining the two and putting them away. It’s a sad sight to see and it shows just how intense Alzheimer’s is willing to take away your freedom.

GREAT GRANDBABY - 2016. Alzheimer’s may affect her memory, but it cannot diminish the warmth of her love for her great grandbabies. Each moment spent with them, whether holding them close or simply watching them play, brings a sparkle to her eyes that speaks volumes. The gentle touch of tiny hands, the soft sounds of laughter, and the comforting weight of a baby in her arms create a world of joy and connection that transcends the challenges of her condition.

MISSY - July 23, 2016. These two soul bound friends that have been in each others’ company since 2001. Missy was one of very few pets to be born into the family from another pet and she fell in love with her instantly, becoming her forever human. Missy has been one of the most devoted pets she ‘s ever had and the love they share for each other is apparent. There is no mistaking the bond between these two and, to make such a loving story even more unique, both of them share the same birthday. Truly a beautiful relationship.

MOTHER’S DAY -May 8, 2016. A wonderful mother who has had to put up with not just one but five children. Each at different stages in her life she’s had to endure each one’s childhood, teenage years, and young adult years. This is no easy feat but she has managed it with as much kindness and love as you could ask of anyone. Even today, despite her condition, she still shows as much patience and devotion to her family as she did before Alzheimer’s set in. Truly she is a heroic individual worthy of praise.

CONDUCTING - 2016. When "Happy Birthday" plays, my mother’s instinct awakens despite her Alzheimer's. Conducting the melody with confidence, as if leading a symphony. This charming sight showcases her rhythm and gesture, adding depth to the celebration. Her focused eyes reflect joy in simple moments. Though we cheer her on, it’s her unfiltered joy that warms our hearts, reminding us of the love that persists despite her challenges. Each birthday evolves into a cherished memory we hold dear.

PARTY GAMES - August 15, 2015. Even with the challenges posed by Alzheimer's, my mother has a remarkable ability to engage in joyous moments. At the recent baby shower, her spirit shone brightly as we gathered around the table for party games. Despite her cognitive struggles, she beamed with excitement when the games began.

LETTER TO GOD - September 28, 2014. I don’t even have words to say to this. What my mother wrote in this letter about her Alzheimer's disease says it all.

CEMETERY II - January 28, 2014. It has been nearly two years since my mother's husband passed away, a loss that deeply affected her and our family. Shortly after his death, she received the diagnosis of early onset Alzheimer's disease. This news marked a significant turning point, not only in her life but also in the way our family navigates our relationship with her. Despite her diagnosis, my mother still holds onto vivid memories of her husband and the time they shared together. She often speaks about him with clarity, recalling moments that bring both joy and sadness. These memories provide her comfort, anchoring her to a past that remains important even as her condition progresses. As we support her through this challenging journey, we focus on the moments of connection that her memories create. It is a delicate balance of cherishing the past while adapting to the changes that the disease brings. We find solace in the love she continues to express, recognizing that even as her cognitive abilities shift, the emotions tied to her husband and those cherished memories remain intact.

CEMETERY - February 2013. A year had passed since the day her husband was laid to rest, but the ache in her heart was still fresh. This was a man who had shared her life, her dreams, and her struggles. Despite the fog of Alzheimer’s that loomed, there were still pockets of vivid clarity that surfaced unexpectedly. Each day, she navigated memories that felt both distant and immediate. In moments of clarity, she saw him as he was before the illness, his steady voice guiding her through a complex world.

UNFORESEEN- April 29, 2007. During this time, my mother began misplacing more and more items around the house. Small things at first—a set of keys here, a favorite bracelet there—quickly escalated to larger, more significant belongings. She would often accuse her granddaughter of stealing her possessions, which created tension within the family. Her coworkers noticed the changes, too; the small mistakes she used to correct with ease began to become more frequent, ultimately prompting her to retire earlier than she had planned. Concerned for her well-being, her husband and children made numerous doctor appointments, fearing that she might be showing early signs of Alzheimer’s disease. Each time, the doctors would dismiss our concerns, insisting that she was too young for such a diagnosis and attributing her symptoms to stress. However, deep down, we knew that something wasn’t right. It wouldn’t be until 2012, after years of uncertainty and escalating symptoms, that she was finally diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s disease. The label did little to alleviate our fears; instead, it marked the beginning of a long but challenging journey through the disease. The passing of her husband further complicated matters, leaving her to navigate her condition with a heavy heart.

BEGINNING - September 23, 2003. During this time, Alzheimer's was slowly creeping into my mother's brain. She would misplace her keys or forget where she had put her glasses, actions that seemed minor and easily explainable. Family gatherings went on, filled with laughter, and little attention was paid to her subtle lapses. It was easy to overlook these signs, as they were often dismissed with light-hearted comments or reassurances. Yet, beneath the surface, the disease was quietly establishing its presence, marking the beginning of a journey none of us were prepared for. Each misplaced item felt like a whisper of something greater—a slow unraveling that would later become impossible to ignore.