tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649118720488149471.post7638156746623773882..comments2023-12-27T00:52:05.523-08:00Comments on Dementia Diaries: A Journey With Dementia: What is Semantic Dementia?Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649118720488149471.post-68798387009321437652012-07-28T11:49:17.715-07:002012-07-28T11:49:17.715-07:00Thanks for sharing that Judy. I know it's not ...Thanks for sharing that Judy. I know it's not easy to share things that are deep and personal. That is one of the things I dread the most...her forgetting who I am. I just tell myself that deep down inside, she will know. And that this life is just a small speck on the timeline!Cassandrahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06151048661050906612noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3649118720488149471.post-90016097267343623932012-07-26T10:13:12.877-07:002012-07-26T10:13:12.877-07:00I know you posted this months ago, but I didn'...I know you posted this months ago, but I didn't read your older posts until today. <br /><br />One of the worst experiences I've ever had was when I realized that my dad had forgotten who I was. We were at my husband's graduation from Pharmacy School (which was supposed to be a happy affair). My father glanced at me, smiled and turned to my mom and asked her if she knew who I was. I was the first of my family to be forgotten. I was emotionally devastated and angry with the disease that had stolen my father from me. My husband later gently reminded me that I still had my father. His spirit was still there, it was just trapped in his broken body.<br /><br />You are probably wondering why I am posting this story. Well, there was a lot of sadness that came from my father's dementia, but there were also some positive spiritual experiences as well. Not long before my dad passed on, I was sitting next to him. I remember him turning and looking at me. Yes, he would look at me at other times but there was something different about this look. He had on a look of recognition and he held out his hand to me. I don't know how many times I prayed for my father to remember me just once. <br /><br />I learned that his spirit was still there and that he was still fighting.<br /><br />I've never shared this experience with anyone. Thinking about it still makes me cry.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01831505849198005708noreply@blogger.com