Courtesy of Minding Our Elders

Dear Carol: My dad has mixed dementia, both vascular and Alzheimer’s. He’s in a fog most of the time. However, once in a while, he’ll look me straight in the eye and talk directly to me, just like he used to. Is this common? —Larry

Dear Larry: I haven’t found statistics on this, but I saw it with my own dad, who developed dementia after surgery. He lived 10 years with this dementia, and most of the time we were trying to cope with his needs as his dementia dictated. However, now and then, he’d suddenly turn back into “Dad.”

All I can say is treasure these moments. A student in a gerontology class I was speaking to told me a story about her grandmother. The student, Anna, was 20 years old and didn’t remember her grandmother without dementia. One day, after a visit, Anna was leaving, so she hugged her grandmother and said, as she always did, “I love you, Grandma.” Only that time, instead of staring into space, her grandmother hugged her back and said, “I love you, too, Anna.” Anna was stunned. For several years, her grandma hadn’t seemed to even know who she was.

My sister, Beth, tells of a time when she was visiting our dad. While he recognized all of us, he was generally off in his own world. This time, however, he looked up happily and said, “Here’s my daughter!” Beth treasures that moment.

I visited Dad at the nursing home nearly every morning. One morning, he suddenly looked at me with his hazel-blue eyes steady and, well, normal. He simply said to me, “My universe has gotten so small.” Then he went back into his dementia.

Another time, while Dad and I were visiting, his face cleared, and he looked directly at me and said, “Do they know what happened to me?” As he spoke, he gestured toward the hallway and a passing nurse. I answered, “Yes, they do.” It was obvious that he wanted people to know why he was the way he was.

Hang tight to these moments, Larry. You may never know the “why,” but you have them. From my viewpoint, the only reason to wonder why would be if that knowledge could help researchers prevent or cure dementia. My dad was beyond help. All we could do was use these moments of clarity as part of our memories of our beloved dad. I hope you can tuck away these times you are given and regard them as gifts.