The Seed, Part Two – My Mother

A simple dinner out, a repeated joke, and the quiet work of preserving dignity.

Not long after the night with my father, I began noticing changes in my mother. Alzheimer’s disease was slowly taking her memory, but in public she still seemed like “herself” to most people—until moments when it didn’t.

One evening we went to dinner, just the two of us. The waiter greeted us warmly, and as we ordered, my mother shared a lighthearted joke. The first time, he laughed. The second time, a little smile. By the third time, I could see confusion flicker across his face. He didn’t know she had Alzheimer’s, and she didn’t realize she was repeating herself.

So I leaned in and quietly explained, “My mother has Alzheimer’s disease. She may repeat herself, but she just loves making people smile.” His expression softened instantly. From then on, his tone was gentler, his patience endless. She felt seen, not embarrassed.

That dinner reminded me how often caregivers have to translate the behavior of someone with dementia for the world—on the fly, without shaming or drawing unwanted attention. I thought, What if there was a way for people to know right away?

That’s the power of the Dementia Guardian symbol. It silently tells the world: This person may need extra patience and understanding. It removes the awkward explanations and gives strangers the chance to lead with compassion.

Between my father’s midnight confusion and my mother’s dinner-table repeats, the vision for Dementia Guardian was no longer just an idea—it was a mission.