My Dad Called Me By My Dead Mother's Name Today (And I Don’t Think He Knows Who I Am Anymore)

A raw, honest moment from a daughter caregiving for her daddy with dementia

I was helping Daddy into his chair this morning when he looked up at me and smiled.

"Thank you, Jane," he said. Sweet as Sunday morning.

And my heart just... stopped.

Mama's been gone since 2021. And I'm right here—his daughter—doing everything I can to keep him comfortable, safe, loved.

But in that moment? I don't think he knew it was me.

If You're Caregiving for a Parent Who Doesn't Recognize You Anymore, You're Not Alone

There's this grief that nobody prepares you for when you're caring for someone with dementia.

It's not the grief of losing them all at once.

It's the grief of losing them piece by piece, day by day, memory by memory—while they're still sitting right in front of you.

You become a stranger in the body of the person who used to know you better than anyone.

And Lord, it hurts.

The Guilt That Comes With the Grief

Here's what nobody tells you:

When your parent doesn't recognize you anymore, you'll feel guilty for being sad about it.

Because he's still here. He's still breathing. He still needs you.

So you tell yourself, "At least I still have him."

And you do. You absolutely do.

But you're also allowed to grieve the fact that the person who knew your whole story doesn't remember your name anymore.

Both things can be true.

What It's Really Like When Your Parent Has Dementia

If you're new to this caregiving journey, let me tell you what it's actually like:

Some days, he's here. He remembers. He tells stories from when I was little. He calls me by my name. We laugh together.

Other days, I'm a stranger. Or I'm his mother. Or his sister. Or my mama—who's been gone for years.

Most days? It's somewhere in between. A flicker of recognition. A soft "I love you" that feels like it's meant for me, even if he's not sure who I am.

And as a daughter, as a caregiver, as someone who loves him more than words—you just keep showing up.

Even when it breaks your heart.

How I Get Through the Hard Moments

I'm not going to lie to you—I don't have this figured out.

Some days I cry in the Walmart parking lot. Some days I'm fine. Some days I'm numb.

But here's what helps me survive the moments when he doesn't know me:

1. I remind myself: He still feels love, even if he can't name it.

Dementia steals memory. But it doesn't steal feeling.

When I help him into bed, when I hold his hand, when I sit with him in the quiet—he feels that. Even if he can't articulate it.

My presence still matters.

2. I give myself permission to grieve while caregiving.

You don't have to wait until someone is gone to feel the loss.

I'm allowed to miss my daddy while I'm still taking care of him.

That's not weak. That's human.

3. I let go of needing him to remember me.

This one is the hardest.

But the truth is, I can't control what his brain remembers. I can only control how I show up.

So I choose to love him where he is—not where I wish he still was.

4. I talk to someone who gets it.

Whether it's a caregiver support group, a therapist, a friend who's been through this, or even just journaling—I let the grief out.

Because if I don't, it'll eat me alive.

If You're Walking This Road Too

If your parent doesn't recognize you anymore, I see you.

I see how hard you're trying. How much you're holding. How deeply it hurts to be forgotten by the person who used to know your heartbeat.

You're not alone in this.

And you're not a bad daughter (or son) for struggling with it.

You're allowed to:

Feel sad, even when they're still alive
Miss who they used to be
Need a break (even if you don't take one)
Cry, scream, or feel nothing at all
Love them AND grieve them at the same time

A Reminder for the Hard Days

Your parent may not remember your name.

But your love still reaches them.

Your patience still comforts them.

Your presence still matters.

And even on the days when it feels like they're already gone—you showing up is enough.

You are enough.

If You're Barely Surviving Too, I Made Something for You

I know what it's like to be running on empty—caregiving full-time, working full-time, trying to keep your own head above water while everyone else needs you.

Your nervous system is maxed. Your heart is heavy. And rest feels like a luxury you can't afford.

So I created something simple. Something doable. Something that doesn't require you to have hours of free time or energy you don't have.

It's called the Overwhelmed Heart Reset Kit, and it's free.

Inside, you'll get:

A 5-minute guided audio reset to help your nervous system calm down
A simple journal to get the chaos out of your head
Permission to exhale—even if just for a moment

No fluff. No hour-long meditations. Just relief for your exhausted heart.

[Get your free Overwhelmed Heart Reset Kit here →Click Here!

You're doing something impossibly hard with so much love, darlin'.

And you don't have to do it alone. 💛

— Meredith

P.S. If you want more real talk, gentle tools, and a safe space to process this caregiving journey, come hang out with me here on The Porch Light Circle Podcast. It's a soft corner for your weary heart. 🤎