Jack was admiring my ability to open a box of cereal this morning. I was caught between loving his admiration and feeling sad that he thought it was natural that he doesn’t know how. Then I realized that it was actually a good thing. It meant I’ve been focusing on the right things.

Jack is past the point of feeling embarrassed that he has trouble. He thinks it’s perfectly normal to not know how to put a shirt on or deal with shoes and belts. He blames the manufacturers for ‘making things the wrong way’ or ‘making things too complicated’. I’d like to think it’s because I don’t make a big deal out of his inability to understand.

But my not making a big deal out of his inability to understand is a hard won trait that has grown out of hundreds of small, daily choices. I believe that how I choose to perceive and interact with Jack has a lot to do with this. Jack is still Jack, after all, at an essential level, and he still has feelings and needs. I have to choose repeatedly, however, to see him in this way, rather than viewing his dementia as a tragedy that has taken him away from me.

I am not saying that what happened isn’t a tragedy. When I see this intelligent man sitting at the table wondering what his cereal bowl is, I want to cry. When he marvels at my ability to change a light bulb or wonders if I have enough experience to use a knife, I feel overwhelmed by our new reality. Sometimes the weight of that reality is very heavy indeed.

But in that moment, and in countless others like it, I have a choice. I can see Jack as having lost so much and succumb to the feeling that life is unfair (sometimes I do). Or I can choose to see Jack as having a new and unique way of experiencing his world, one that I can learn from and understand. I can look past the ‘normal’ to the deeper place where Jack is still the same human with the same feelings. I will leave you to guess which choice makes things easier.

I would like to think that this constant daily choosing makes it easier for Jack to see himself as being normal in how he perceives his world. I don’t ever want him to feel like he’s deficient in any way. I want him to be comfortable asking me for help no matter what he struggles with. I don’t want him to feel like there’s something wrong with him.

I try to accept his perceptions as normal, to the best of my ability. I am not always good at it. But it seems to make it easier for both of us. I can give him the gift of acceptance even if I can’t give him much else.