A beautiful and evocative way to describe loss related to dementia is that it is ambiguous and confusing, kind of like walking along a path in mistiness and fog. If we are walking in these conditions and worried about where we are going or getting lost, which is a natural thing for us to worry about in new conditions, we can fail to see the freshness of our situation and the potentials for healing and growth in the moment. The attitude with which we approach our walking in the mist is supremely important in producing certain effects.
So we have to remember that this kind of loss is ambiguous and leads to mixed emotions. We can expect to feel ambivalence, that is both positive and negative emotions layered on top of each other. We might at the same time welcome and receive our negative emotions like sadness, confusion, anger, nostalgia, dread, and fear as a constitutive element of the joy, hope, and growth we well experience by walking in the woods when the mists prevent clarity of sight. We might feel both fear and exhilaration. If we can accept the ambiguity and ambivalence, we position ourselves well to experience the aliveness and freshness of walking in the misty woods that accompanies the fear. We can feel attuned to the damp and cold as an enlivening invitation.
Pauline Boss in writing about ambiguous loss describes the approach of one family who takes their mother’s dementia as an invitation to see the freshness of each moment. The three sons of Helen Sewell witness her return to a childlike awe and desire for company and connection. Her son Tom writes:
“Slowly she started to become childlike, often asking where her mother and father are, when they will be back. This change was on us all. Now, however, I celebrate my times with Mom. I consider them golden. I hope I can be more like her. She’s completely in the here and now. She’s almost always happy, friendly, cheerful to everyone, always concerned about others. She will seldom eat anything without first offering it to whomever she is with.”
Pauline Boss, Ambiguous Loss (53)
The invitation offered by the person living with dementia who is not overcome by fearfulness and aggression that their disease might trigger, who remains happy and content, is to live in the moment. What are you experiencing now in this moment with me visitor? It is like Helen is saying to Tom, where is your attention now? What is your body and mind experiencing now? Even without a formal practice of mindfulness, this is mindfulness spontaneously arising from the conditions of attending to persons and their needs who live with dementia.
I remember visiting with my grandpa when I was serving him breakfast. Sometimes he would wake up late, and I would have already eaten. I would fix him some food and get him some coffee. And he would always cheerfully offer me food and ask if I wanted some. I would tell him that I had already eaten and thank him for thinking of me. We would live in the present moment until my mind wandered, and then I would patiently bring it back and sit with him mindfully attending to our interactions and surroundings again. Sensations and perceptions and thoughts would arise and pass away. The ambiguity would melt in the vivid experiences of the moment we spent together.
