My mom had dementia towards the last few months of her life and I was there to get through the difficult times with her. She was 83 (not sure whether that’s her actual age or not), and this was in 2008, when she passed away peacefully on July 22. The greatest thing is that during that time she always remember me who I was: the little son of hers.
It was very taxing physically and mentally, but I have learnt so much about love, peace and acceptance. And it was sad sometimes because she used to be a very able and strong lady. As described by Ajahn Brahm, my mom lost track of time, and forgot practically everyone’s name, except mine.
But the strangest and most beautiful revelation to me – which I found out this year – is that I was her adopted child, yet she remembered me till her last breath.