JenP I had similar experience regarding grandparents. By the time I was 5 three of the four had already died, so I didn't really know them. I pretty much only know them from pictures.

Well, the inevitable finally happened. I was bitching about clients and thought I was on mute. I was not on mute. Fortunately it wasn't anything too terrible, and I halfway covered my ass. It's a stupid habit, though, and I should have known better.

I'm a little frazzled because this weekend an uncle by marriage died (cancer, expected, no sympathy required), and we started making plans to attend the funeral, and then on Monday the funeral was abruptly moved to this coming Monday, so I had to deal with those plans. And that also meant figuring out how the new overlord handled time (I am getting bereavement leave to attend the funeral, which is nice), and we're changing computers and email addresses and juggling software licenses and I'm still having to do some stuff on my old computer.

My Fridays are normally nice and calm.

Back on lying to people with dementia -- it is definitely best practice. Both what our Alzheimer's Association called "theraputic fiblets" and also the improv-style "Yes, and" make things feel better for both you and the person with the dementia.

Hang in there, everyone.

Yah, I often thought it would've been kinder if her dementia had been just ever so slightly worse... but the way she would always ask was for confirmation that she remembered right. Which she did.

It's such a bummer, right, ND? I've always envied that my sisters really knew our paternal grandparents, exchanged letters with them and such. I don't even remember my granddad. He died when I was maybe 2 years old.

On my mom's side, her dad died in his forties, so no chance there. I remember her mom quite well, but... she was truly awful to her children (not to us), so I never really bonded with ol' Ella.. or wanted to.

My heart goes out to all of.you who are dealing with aging parents and difficult relatives who need care and the attendant really hard parts about it all. It's hard, and frustrating, and heartbreaking, and exhausting. I'm sorry.

I am so sorry to jump in here without fully responding to all the OMGWTFPOLARBEAR bullshit so many of you are dealing with. I will get to a point when I can offer advice on dementia management and such, but it's too raw right now. But I hear how shitty and hard things are for so many of you, and all I can say is that we are here. You aren't alone.

And now I will bitch about the thing that is making me crazy because I can't talk about it anywhere else. Caregiver J, who was so good to my dad and was in a crappy situation at first when Dad died because he has just gotten his first full time nursing job and didn't yet have paystubs to get another place, made a mistake at work and got fired yesterday. So now he's texting ND and begging him to plead to me to let him stay in Dad's condo indefinitely because he is convinced he can't find anything else to live and he will be homeless if I make him move out when he agreed to move out (March 1). He offered me $1000/month, which would barely cover costs, and, more importantly, I NEED TO SELL IT. Not only do I owe money that I borrowed during the past two months and need to pay back, that place has become nothing but a source of grief for me. I don't want him there anymore. And I already gave him $10,000 from the inheritance I will get AFTER I SELL IT and let him live there rent free January and February. I'm truly sorry the housing market is so hard there. I'm truly sorry he lost his job over what was probably an honest mistake. But I also cannot carry him. I truly feel I've been very generous and patient, and every day that goes by, the fact that the condo is sitting there, half emptied out, eats at me. ND hasn't been able to pay himself regularly in a while, and we are scraping by on my salary and the charity of friends. This has to end. And I hate that he's making me feel so guilty.

Oh, Pix. That sucks, but you have already gone above and beyond here.

Oh, Pix, I'm so sorry. That is a hard thing.

Shrift and Steph and Plei: I have so much sympathy for you all. It's so hard.

I wish I could offer advice, but so many of my issues were different. We strongarmed my folks into accepting help when Dad had to get medical treatments every day and Mom couldn't be left alone. But we had to pay for it for the first year or so, until I got access to Dad's finances and realized he could cover it.

It was a constant battle anyway, because they really hated accepting help, until they moved into assisted living. Somehow that made it easier for them, but it was still hard.

I hate that Alex never knew his paternal grandfather (died of a sudden heart attack when Dylan was a senior in college), doesn't remember my dad at all (died of cancer when Alex was a little over a year old), only faintly remembers my mother (died of cancer when he was 5), and lost the only grandparent he really had a relationship with when he was just 18. I wish he'd known all four of them--I feel like he's missing out on a sense of rootedness and connection to the past you get from knowing your family elders.

But I'm also glad none of them had to go through dementia. My maternal grandmother did, and it was so excruciating to live through. I remember when it was just starting she'd mix me up with one of my cousins who was a few years older than me but had the same coloring, and then right before my mom and aunts finally put her in a nursing home she was calling me by my mom's name. I remember it being a huge source of tension between my mom and my two aunts who lived nearby, because the aunts were all "We CAN'T put our MOTHER in a HOME!" when they had full-time jobs and were barely involved in her care and thought that Mom should have the capacity to be essentially her full-time caregiver since she only worked part-time...which no.

All of which is to say I have so much sympathy with everyone trying to sort all this out.

The last few times I saw my mom I’m pretty certain she didn’t know who I was. It hurt.

My dad’s mom had slipped into dementia by the time I was old enough to remember her. She was an intelligent, determined woman—the daughter of Finnish immigrant farmers who went to college in the 1910s, became a teacher, and demanded an equal relationship from my granddad. I have the handmade skis that she used to get to the one room school house, where she taught in the UP, on my living room wall. I wish I’d known her as she was.

The one time I ever heard Mom say something good about her father was when he voluntarily decided he was no longer fit to drive and gave up his license. She totally respected that.

Pix, I’m sorry things are fraught with your dad’s caregiver. If he can’t find work or living quarters where he is, it seems like that $10k would help him get somewhere more affordable, with more opportunities.