Two years ago we took care of my mother her until the very end. Endless dr. appointments, blood tests, chemo and radition. We took her shopping and helped with her errands. She was my best friend, and she had so much fight left in her but the cancer had other plans. Previous to my mother's illnesses my father had been suffering from Dementia/ Alzheimer’s. I was able to visit him nearly everyday as he resided in the care facility where I worked. I watched the stern father I once new growing up turn into a happy-go-lucky grandpa. He would look out the window for my car and tell the others "my daughter's working today". I would bring him a coffee and chat nearly every shift. He loved visiting with his grandson Rylie and my rotweiler Bruna (who he called Bruno and good boy no matter how many times we corrected him). As time moved on he became resistant to the staff and their care.  At this time I stepped in and helped with his personal care as he still trusted me. Over time the behaviors got worse, and they moved him to a Dementia specific unit. He stopped walking, started falling and eventually was in a wheel chair.  He stopped talking as much or making much of any sense. I could see the father I once knew slipping away. With a new career and a busy family my visits became fewer and fewer. You tell yourself "I'll visit next week" then that turns into "the following week"  until you recieve that dreaded call one night that your father unexpectedly passed away. 

Tianna, 32, Kamloops