Midwest Mary

After receiving communion, an elderly gentleman slowly took steps to his seat. He paused and grasped each pew along the way. Every third row, he looked up as if he was unsure of where to go. Then, he’d wave and smile in recognition of someone waving back at him from the rear of the church.

The congregation was still and quiet, watching the man gradually make his way to his seat. We held our breath and agonized with each of his steps. A parishioner soon approached the gentleman and took his hand. She assured him all was well, and they were moving closer to his companion.

We have a large parish, and the man was someone I didn’t recognize. However, his uncertainty of where he was and where he was going brought me to tears. In fact, when I returned to my car, I had an ugly cry, something I rarely do at this point in my life.

The labored man’s walk was reminiscent of my decade and a half of such moments with my husband, Marshall, and his journey with Alzheimer’s disease. I also met hundreds of others in the same situation when I spoke across the country to groups dealing with dementia.

Watching a loved one decline is painful. Whether it be due to a physical or mental disability or addiction, witnessing someone we care about drift away tears at our hearts.

Part of our frustration is the impossible desire to fix things that are out of our control. We want a pill, surgery, or healthcare provider to make it all go away.

Yet, there are always things we can do to help. Our presence can offer comfort. We can sit with our loved one and hold their hand. We can enjoy a sunny afternoon in the garden, listen to their favorite music, or watch a television program together. Picture books offer bright photos to talk about, and a simple coloring page allows some creative expression with colored pencils or crayons.

Offering assistance to their caregiver and immediate family is also productive. We can bring them a healthy meal, mow their lawn, or offer to run errands. Every small effort slightly eases the insurmountable responsibilities they face.

Most significantly, we can pray. We can pray for our loved ones, their caregivers and healthcare providers, and their friends and families. Studies show that prayer works. People who are prayed for heal faster and attain more comfort, even if they are unaware of those prayers.

We can pray the prayers we are accustomed to, such as the Our Father, the rosary, or a novena. We can also pray in our own words. However we pray, know that all prayers are powerful.

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If you have a friend or family member dealing with dementia, you’ll find helpful information, suggestions, and personal experiences in my books, Navigating Alzheimer’s, The Alzheimer’s Spouse, and Inspired Caregiver.

©Mary K. Doyle, 2025