Choosing Love Over Loss For The Alzheimer’s Patient

Last Saturday, I brought my husband with me to my favorite boxing class. He was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, and lately I’ve been afraid to leave him home alone. He sometimes wanders, and the thought of him getting lost shakes me to my core.

The week before, it worked out beautifully—he sat quietly in a chair until class ended, and afterward we did our Saturday ritual: farmer’s market, coffee, and street music. I wanted to repeat it. But this time, halfway through class, I looked up and his chair was empty.

Panic. I ran to the front desk—“He went for a walk,” they told me. My heart dropped. I rushed outside, terrified, and there he was, just about to cross the street. Relief washed over me, but so did something else: anger.

Not at him—but at this disease. At the burden of caregiving. At the fear that boxing, something that brings me joy, might also be taken away. My panic turned to rage, and then into tears.

Caregiving is often described as heavy, lonely work. And it is. Watching someone you love slowly slip away is heartbreaking, and the responsibilities can feel endless. Giving up even small pieces of joy feels like another loss.

Later that day, though, the anger softened. I realized I’d been dragging him along to ease my anxiety without asking what he might want. That was hard to admit. So I decided that Saturdays—our only free day together—would be about “us.” Not my class, not my schedule. Just us. Walks, coffee outside, listening to music in the street.

I’d be lying if I said I don’t miss the old days—the travels, the house, the big dinners. This is not the life I pictured for our golden years. But when I sit with him now, coffee in hand, watching a sunset or listening to a saxophone in the park, I find moments of magic.

And I’ve noticed something: when I let go of clinging to my needs and choose to give, I receive something even greater. Compassion. Joy. A sense of love that transforms pain into something softer, almost beautiful.

Caregiving is not only a sacrifice. It’s also a chance to grow. It’s not easy, but then again, nothing worth having ever is.

Care giving can feel lonely, but we don’t have to walk alone. If this resonates with you, share it with someone who might need encouragement.