We enter this world with no worries or fears,
We laugh, we love, we build our years.
Then one day you learn of a cruel disease,
That steals away life with silent ease.
Dementia creeps in and takes control,
Shattering dreams, consuming the soul.
It rips apart the lives we knew,
And hurts the ones who care for you.
The whole family bears the weight,
Each day a battle, a painful fate.
I’ve watched my mum from the very start,
As this disease has torn her apart.
Denial, confusion, fear and despair,
A poisonous cocktail too heavy to bear.
The brain breaks down, bit by bit,
Until the person you love no longer fits.
The mum I knew is slipping away,
Her recent memories stolen each day.
She calls me “mum,” her husband “dad,”
A childlike world, both tender and sad.
Now in a home, she finds delight,
In her baby doll held close at night.
Her favourite song still brings her cheer:
“She’ll Be Coming Round the Mountain,” she sings with cheer.
There’s magic in that simple song,
Her face lights up, she sings along.
Like switching on a darkened light,
Her spirit glimmers, pure and bright.
She still smiles and gives a kiss,
But does she know whose hand she grips?
She tries to speak, her words unclear,
I hold her close, I feel her near.
Her eyes reveal her silent plea,
The pain of what she cannot be.
She’s trapped inside, unable to share,
An unknown world—yet still she’s there.
And sometimes comes a fleeting ray,
A moment of clarity in the grey.
She looks at me with sudden dread,
And whispers softly, “I wish I was dead.”
No one can grasp the weight we bear,
This cruel disease beyond compare.
For carers and families, it’s devastating,
To watch a loved one deteriorating.
So I hold to hope, however small,
That Mum finds happiness through it all.
Though trapped in this unknown world so deep,
I’ll guard her memory, her love, to keep.
Lisa Rutter