It's been almost a year that my family has been grieving dementia diagnosis. I know there are five stages of grief, but it feels like dealing with dementia doesn't ever allow one to move into a level of acceptance.
You start with the initial denial--there is no way that my loved one has this. I actually was in denial as far back as last summer. My sister mentioned some things she was noticing. She was first to sound an alarm.
Next is anger--how can someone like this be in this state? My loved one in question is young--not an age where one would expect a dementia diagnosis.
Followed by depression--I have a unquantifiable loss in this diagnosis. This loved one isn't invincible, and I know that, but I still and mourn what I will "never get back".
Bargaining has played a big big part of my journey in navigating this season. I want this loved one to be around for my daughter, who is very young. They have a very special relationship, and I cannot imagine discussing loss with my daughter. I want this person around for my siblings, who also have special relationships with them.
And then finally, acceptance. This diagnosis is my family member's fate, and there is nothing I can conceivably do to change that course.
Most days I can just swallow the pain and move on throughout my day, but little hair triggers will smack me down and force me to have to move through the grief stages all over again--at a much faster pace--and each cycle becomes more painful than the last.
There are some positives, I guess. When I was not allowed to even dare mention this sort of thing online by my family, I am now able to at least write about it in some capacity. The reason being is I'm sure it's just become more apparent to others what is happening.
And yet, I still feel quite isolated. I have several friends who are at various stages with their loved ones, but I just feel like I don't quite know how to handle the gradual loss of their loved ones to this horrid disease. And perhaps these loved ones have some counsel they could offer, but the problem of pain is silence. No one wants to expose themselves at their most vulnerable state.
I hadn't really confronted my grief in a solid month because I had other stressors, but mentioning how far everything had come to my Bible study group tonight just gutted me. Last time I had gathered, things were "okay" with my loved one. They had a diagnosis, but there wasn't too many pronounced signs for an unscrutinizing eye. Things have become more pronounced, and it just hurts to have to confront and work through that.
Currently still working through it.
And working through it again and again and again and again until Jesus comes.
