Over 6.7 million Americans have Alheimer’s Disease, but the effects are not limited to the patients themselves. Rather, the entire family must learn coping strategies. This week, we are honored to share a guest post from Jessica Goldmuntz Stokes, author, speaker, and daughter of Alzheimer’s parents.
I lost my Mom to Alzheimer’s in January of 2022 after a 13-year journey. In the midst of it, we also lost her sister (Alzheimer’s) and her husband (Parkinson’s). In 2019, the same week Mom went into Memory Care, my Aunt died. My Uncle died two months later. I helped with caregiving for them all. I write about it in my book, Seeking Clarity in the Labyrinth, a Daughter’s Journey through Alzheimer’s.
Mom was my best friend during my 30s and 40s. My kids’ dad and I divorced when my kids were young, and Mom listened to my tears, celebrated my joys, and laughed with me when I needed to. Now, as my daughter is in her early twenties, I am struck by the memories I have of Mom during this time, too. Our friendship and relationship have always had a special quality.
When Mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, I was mad, frustrated, and angry. How could this happen to us? To her? To Me? Every stage of the illness challenged me. We limped through the process. My family taught ourselves as we went. We learned and did some things right, and we messed up often, too. We were blind to what was ahead and what we were slowly losing. We all tried our best. I was frazzled. By accident, I started writing. It helped. Time helped, too. Practicing mindfulness became a beacon of light in the darkness.
When, in November 2024, my 81-year-old Dad received a diagnosis of Alzheimer’s, I was hit by that dropping ton of bricks. Again? What is it with this disease? It seems to be following me. What lesson is this all about? WHY. Why! Why? Of course, it is different. The benefit is that I know what I know. I know how to treat this disease. I know how to navigate through it. We are not blind. I know how to find the resources we need. But the curse is also that I know what I know. I know where we are going.
After I lost Mom, Dad quickly stepped into the role of my best friend. Dad and I shared something in ways no one else can relate to: we had shared the love from and the love for Mom. And we both have clung to that connection we had.
So here I am facing the loss of another best friend, another parent, another looming ‘know what I know’ loss.
It is different, of course. As I contemplate what comes next, I feel blessed. Dad is handling the diagnosis completely differently from Mom. He has gotten every resource he can find and does everything to be proactive every day. He embraces his life in gratitude and appreciation.
We have another Labyrinthian journey ahead of us, but Dad’s ability to courageously face his diagnosis and the support I learned through Mom’s journey give me hope for our future. I have the labyrinth symbol, and what it represents. The journey we are all on. With its twists and turns, it always leads to the center. So, for me? I know where to find a labyrinth to walk.
About Jessica
Award-Winning, best-selling author, speaker & educator, Jessica Goldmuntz Stokes is an entrepreneur at heart. Always seeking her own growth and truth, she teaches and performs belly dance and belly yoga. She is a creative healing arts practitioner utilizing stone medicine, Munay ki Shamanic rites, Therapeutic Touch and Reiki. She is passionate in supporting women through personal growth and finding their truth. She co-leads women retreats and support groups as well as 1:1 coaching for anyone navigating the challenges experienced due to dementia.
Click here to get a copy of her book, Seeking Clarity in the Labyrinth, a Daughter’s Journey Through Alzheimer’s