Forget Me Not: A Daughter’s Journey Through Dementia 💙

Hi, I’m Aparna. This is my story—a story of pain, tears, strength, and love. A story of dried eyes, speechless moments, and unsaid words from my mom, who one day forgot who I was.

You really need courage to live with that reality—to face the day when your own mother calls out, but doesn’t recognize you as her daughter.

The Diagnosis

My mom was diagnosed with early-stage Fronto-Temporal Dementia (FTD) at just 48. It was 2013. At first, I didn’t know—my parents kept it from me. They didn’t want me to leave my career in Bangalore because they knew how far I would go to care for them.

Coming from a doctor’s family, my mom was under the best possible supervision. My dad, a respected senior pediatrician, and my sister, who had just started her medical career in TMH, ensured she received all the care she needed. Meanwhile, I had just begun my HR career. They didn’t want to disturb me, to derail my life.

But in October 2013, I came home to Jamshedpur for Durga Puja—and nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. My mom looked so fragile, so thin. Something inside me broke. That’s when the truth came out. My world shattered. She was my heart.

The Decision

That very moment, I made a decision. I would return home permanently. I didn’t need a caregiver for my mom—I would be her caregiver. Her daughter.

I returned to Bangalore, completed the year at my job as my parents wished, and resigned in March 2014. Before coming home, I took my mom to one of the best neurologists in Bangalore for a second opinion. I’ll never forget how she cried in front of the doctor, pleading for help, begging to stop the progression of her disease. My heart broke, but I stood strong. I promised her:

"Whatever happens, I will be with you always, until your last breath."

Living the Journey

We returned to Jamshedpur, and my silence told my family everything they needed to know. I had no regrets—leaving my career was the best decision of my life.

If cancer is a beast, dementia is even more cruel. Cancer may wound the body, but dementia steals the soul piece by piece. It robs identity, words, emotions—leaving only fragments of the person you love.

I lived through every stage with my mom—the tears, the aggression, the silence, the moments when she forgot me while I was right in front of her. Some days she was timid, other days restless, but always, she was my mom. And I never let her face it alone.

Lessons of Love and Strength

As a daughter, I can proudly say I did the right thing. Daughters are not weak—we can be pillars, warriors, and caregivers. My mom lived until March 2017. Every single moment I spent by her side remains etched in my heart.

To anyone walking this path, or anyone hesitating to care for their parents—please hear me: Dementia is full of ups and downs, but what matters most is patience, love, and presence. Your parents don’t just need medical care—they need to feel safe, loved, and guarded by their family.

I miss my mom every day. But I also know I gave her what she gave me all my life—unconditional love.

"Forget me not, Mama. You will always, always be my heart." 💙

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✨ Author’s Note

This blog is dedicated to my mom, who taught me the meaning of unconditional love, and to all families walking the painful journey of dementia. If you are caring for a parent with this disease, know that your presence and patience matter more than you realize. They may forget your name, but they will never forget the love you give.

#ForgetMeNot #DementiaAwareness #CaregivingJourney #UnconditionalLove