Tag Archives: family

Preserving Memories With a Loved One—Questions to Ask Before it’s Too Late — The Diary of An Alzheimer’s Caregiver

Most of us think we have more time than we actually do … So many times, after my mom passed, I wished I’d asked her about this person or that event. – Stacy Monson

So true! The Memories Project began as a way to honor my father and the further I went in documenting my father’s stories, the more I realized I was missing important details. That is why I urge everyone to ask your loved ones to recount their life stories and anything else they want to share. It’s so easy now, literally a tap on a smartphone button, and you can record these precious memories.

Read the blog post along with a great list of questions to get you started by clicking the link below:

Preserving Memories With a Loved One—Questions to Ask Before it’s Too Late — The Diary of An Alzheimer’s Caregiver


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Memories of humble, yet happy Thanksgiving meals

Embed from Getty Images

I’ve never had patience for big family gatherings, probably because I grew up celebrating holidays with just my parents. That helped keep planning and bickering to a minimum. I have particularly happy memories of Thanksgiving, enjoying a humble but delicious meal and watching The Twilight Zone marathon throughout the day.

This year, thanks to the contentious election, I’ve come across several articles offering tips on how to survive the holiday with relatives. While I get that family stress is real, and kept my own visits home as an adult to a minimum, it is a bit sad that we need instruction guides on how to navigate a meal without suffering a nervous breakdown. Winning an argument or criticizing someone else’s viewpoint is more important to some than recognizing common bonds and accepting the imperfections in all of us. (That being said, I do not believe toxic family members should get a free pass; repair relationships where you can but move on when necessary.)

Over the last several years I have been preoccupied with family caregiving, and I witnessed the best and worst from my parents, and from myself. For those who are grieving the loss of a loved one, the holidays are a mixed bag of emotions. I am grateful for the memories of simply, happy Thanksgiving meals with my family, and I hope that all of you find those moments this week with your family and friends.


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Salt of the earth

Unfortunately, I never was able to meet either set of my grandparents in person. Technically, my mother was pregnant with me when my parents paid a visit to my mother’s family farm in Tennessee. She didn’t know at the time that it would be the last time she would see her beloved mother alive.

Of course, my mother was full of childhood stories, and she adored both of her parents. Her dad was more stern, a hardworking farmer who supported a large family on the fruits of his labor while being a diabetic, which was much harder to medically manage at the time. He worked until his dying day.


Her mother was equally hardworking, helping in the fields and managing the household. She was an amazing cook and helped keep the peace with eight children with her kind heart and patience.

One of my favorite stories that my mother told about her parents was when grandpa tried to get rid of a farm dog that wasn’t pulling its weight when it came to herding. He tried to take Scott up into the hills and abandon him in the woods, but the dog returned, with bloody paws, determined to remain part of the family. Grandma intervened on behalf of old Scott and grandpa backed down, sparing the lazy but loving dog’s life. Mom certainly adopted grandma’s love of animals.

Both parents had a good sense of humor as well, which my mother certainly inherited. That’s why I love this photo, one of the few I have of my maternal grandparents together. Grandpa is letting just a hint of a smile cross his face, while looking pretty satisfied, and grandma is laughing with pure joy.

Simple people, with love of family and life.


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In support of tough women

I stumbled upon this photo of my mom and my aunt Helen, and it made me laugh out loud. I’m not sure if they were trying to look mean or not, but they look like two tough gals you wouldn’t want to mess with!

mom aunt helen


My aunt Helen preceded my mom in death by about a year. She was tough. She had survived cancer, back when Cobalt was the primary treatment method and it apparently had brutal side effects. Helen soldiered on, raised a family, took care of her husband (my mom’s brother) when he was diagnosed with prostate cancer and outlived him to a ripe old age. Even though she was afflicted with painful conditions as she neared the end of her life, she continued to travel the country and Canada with her family.

Born in the 1920s and 1930s, Aunt Helen and my mom knew tough work from a young age, but they also knew the love of a strong family.

Aunt Helen and my mom grew closer as they grew older, no doubt because they outlived many of the other members of the family. But the two also could talk for hours, with Aunt Helen serving as my mom’s eyes and ears back home in Newport, Tennessee where most of her family lived.

It was a big loss for my mom when Aunt Helen died, as she lost a key connection to her family. Younger generations prefer to text or email, something my mother never did. The phone grew silent.

Now I feel the same way with Mom gone, and the silent phone. I don’t miss it ringing to be honest, but the severed connection cannot be replaced. At least I have this outtake photo, showing the toughness and sense of humor our family have.

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A mix of tricks and treats on Halloween

It seems strange not picking up the phone today and wishing my mother a happy Halloween.

Even though we never spent the holiday together after I was grown, my mom always went out of her way to make Halloween special for me as a kid. That included a nifty handmade “Planet of the Apes” costume when I was very small. As I got a little older, my parents faithfully took me to a nearby park for a community event which was like a carnival, complete with games and you guessed it, candy!

halloween cards

Every time I passed a Halloween card display this month, I felt a pang in my heart. Never again would I pick out a Halloween card for my mom. And never would I receive another one from her.

But, I also have kept the cards she sent to me over the years. So I pulled a few of those out, and read the messages from happier times. This lifted my spirits.

I have no shortage of written memories from my mom. Much of the correspondence may be of the mundane variety, but there is her writing, her words, her expressions of love.

So perhaps there are more treats than tricks this Halloween after all.

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We’re all juggling so much

I was on a business trip in Pittsburgh over the weekend. I don’t get to travel often, and certainly not over the last several years, when caregiving duties required me to be on call at a moment’s notice.

So it was a nice change of pace, and it just happened to be a perfect weather weekend in Pittsburgh.

Pittsburgh skyline at sunset from the Roberto Clemente (aka Sixth Street) bridge.

Pittsburgh skyline at sunset from the Roberto Clemente (aka Sixth Street) bridge.

I had a chance to talk to locals on my Uber trips from my hotel to my workplace. While I am definitely not one to initiate conversation, like my mom was, I usually end up enjoying my conversations with strangers and often learn something along the way. Pittsburgh proved to be no different.

I know often in the midst of a caregiving crisis, I would look around at others who seemed to be carefree and envy that they weren’t saddled with so many heavy responsibilities. But as it turns out, most of us are shouldering more than we’d like, and we’re just trying to do our best to survive.

One of my Uber drivers was an immigrant who is working towards a college degree and hopes to go to law school, but an unplanned child that just arrived in the world threatened to derail his plans. Another driver is a father of three kids, and juggling parenting with a full-time job that required him to get up at the crack of dawn, then works Uber whenever he can to earn money to pay for all of the activities his kids want to be involved in.

It’s so easy to get wrapped up in our own problems and dismiss other people’s struggles. A 10-minute Uber ride reminded me how so many of us are dealing with unexpected detours in our lives, and we’re doing our best to navigate uncharted territory.

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To my mother, a wonderful caregiver

My mom and I don’t always see eye-to-eye, and sometimes she drives me crazy. But while these last several years have been difficult for our family, they have also highlighted my mom’s wonderful qualities.


So on Mother’s Day, I want to honor my mom, who was such a tireless and loving caregiver for my dad. I took for granted all of the things she did for Dad. It was not until I became my mom’s caregiver that I appreciated all of the sacrifices she made.

This is a sketch of my mom done while she was in the Navy, in the early 1960’s. It was then burned/engraved into a wood canvas. It is really a unique work, and captures my mom’s cheerful spirit.

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All dressed up for Easter

Easter makes me reflect on pleasant childhood memories. I wasn’t big on dressing up, but I guess Mom managed to finagle a dress on me for some Easter photos. I’m glad that she did, because I do love this photo.


Easter makes me think of lovely springtime weather, and plastic eggs filled with jelly beans. I can still remember the scent they had. I remember racing through grass looking for hidden eggs at hunts at the local park.

Happy Easter for those who celebrate, both religious and secular versions of the holiday. I know that this is a holiday of hope and renewal for many. Those are two concepts we don’t often associate with Alzheimer’s and dementia. But as caregivers and family members of those with dementia, we need all of the hope we can muster.


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The first Thanksgiving without Dad

It has been a strange, bittersweet Thanksgiving holiday for me. I am spending the week with Mom, but now she’s having some troubling health symptoms that we need to go have checked out tomorrow. So she can’t even enjoy any food today, not that we were going to do a traditional feast.

We decided to skip the turkey and fixings, but the memories of past holiday meals linger. We never had the big family gatherings that many other people enjoy. It was just the three of us, so I think we miss his presence even more because it’s such a huge hole in our little family.

By far, Dad’s favorite holiday was Thanksgiving. He loved all of the traditional dishes served on that day, but I think the turkey was his favorite. He would always ask for seconds on that day! I wish Dad could have enjoyed a real turkey one year, as we always bought those little “turkey roasts in a box” since it was just the three of us.

He wasn’t that big on desserts, which left more pumpkin pie for me, which I was just fine with. 🙂

Holidays and illness unfortunately do mix sometimes. It’s just one of those unavoidable facts of life. Thankfully, I’m not that sentimental about holidays, but I can’t help but think about how it’s been one year now that my life has revolved around illness and loss. These life-altering experiences make you reassess your priorities and what is truly meaningful. It also makes me wonder when I see all of the Facebook posts where people so casually give thanks to family and friends. I’m not saying people are not sincere, but it’s so easy to take all of those special people in your life for granted. I’ve certainly been guilty of it. This past year has taught me a difficult, but important lesson.

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Sunday phone calls

Back when my life was relatively normal (which seems like a dream but which I obviously took for granted) I would call my parents once a week, on Sunday afternoon. We live thousands of miles apart (me in Georgia, my parents in New Mexico) so in-person visits were rare. But I would faithfully call each Sunday, even though I dreaded the intrusion on my personal time. I worked hard, and treasured my weekend time.

Most of these conversations were all Mom. She was the one with the need to talk, and tell me every minute detail of the week. She was lonely, and needed someone to talk to. Dad was more like me, generally reserved unless he really hit it off with someone.

I remember there were times when Dad was sinking into dementia and Mom would put Dad on the phone. Frankly, I dreaded these talks with Dad. It was clear he was losing his mind from the way he would instantly forget what he was talking about to the random questions he would sometimes ask. The conversations worried me and made me feel guilty for not being there to help out Mom.

This summer to now, Sundays have been very strange. I’ve either been visiting Mom in the hospital or nursing home, or taking care of her at home. I almost miss those Sunday phone conversations that I used to dread.

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