I’m Still Me

On dementia. 

I wonder what a person wondering where their soul has “disappeared” to would want to say to the people in their orbit? To their families? To their churches? 

Dear     , 

Please don’t forget me. 

Sometimes I can’t even remember who I am, or who you are. I forget what year it is, what day it is, what time it is; and I need you to help me remember. 

Please don’t forget me. 

Maybe I’ve forgotten how to button my shirt or tie a tie; I may need extra help getting dressed, or reminders to lock the door; and I need you to help me adjust to changes in my life. 

Please don’t forget me. 

Take my hand in yours and help me remember the one whose healing touch was once the bedrock of my faith. 

Pray with me and help me remember the God who will never forget me.

Give me a wafer and a tiny cup of juice, and help me fully experience grace in this moment. 

Sing to me of blessed assurance and watch my eyes sparkle as I remember, almost effortlessly, the sweet words I loved so dear for all those years. 

See? I’m still me. 

Beyond the shaking hands, the forgotten memories, the declining health, I’m still me. 

Though wrapped in a blanket of dementia, a shroud of living death, look deeper. Look closer, look creatively and imaginitively and find me in there. 

I’m still me. Help me remember, and be there for me. 

You might be many different things to me before our relationship is over: my daughter, my son, my pastor, my helper, my wife, my husband, my sister, my brother. 

Become all these things to me, for the sake of showing me the love of Christ who never forgets; who loves me. And then assure me that I’m still me. 

Lament with me, and help me unite my cry to God with Christ’s: “my God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” 

And then, with my hand in yours, help me lift prayers of thanks to a God who hears, who stays, who understands, who remembers. 

Assure me, again, that I’m still me; that you love me, that God loves me.

And please, do not forget me. 



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