"How to Talk to a Parent with Alzheimer’s: Lessons Learned the Hard Way"

When my mum was first diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, I would correct her when she got details wrong, fill in her memories, and try to bring her back to the present. It didn’t take long to realise how exhausting and heartbreaking that approach was for both of us.

Alzheimer’s doesn’t just steal memories; it rearranges communication itself. The rhythms, the logic, and the give-and-take of conversation change. I had to unlearn almost everything I thought I knew about how to talk to my mum.

Here are the lessons I learned, many of them the hard way.

Stop Correcting. Start Connecting.

When Mum would say, “Where are the kids?” I used to gently correct her: “No kids live here, Mum; we've all grown up now.” I thought I was helping her remember, but I wasn’t.

Now, I might respond: “They’re nearby and doing great. You raised them well.”

This keeps the emotional truth alive, and that’s what really matters. Alzheimer’s steals facts, but feelings still live vividly in the heart.

Meet Them Where They Are

It’s tempting to drag your loved one into your reality, but it rarely works. Instead, step into theirs.

If Mum thinks her reflection in the mirror is a different person, I play along with her and talk to her 'friend'. She feels seen and safe. That’s the real goal of communication now: not accuracy, but comfort.

Silence Can Be Beautiful

In the early days, I filled every pause with chatter, nervous energy, perhaps, or fear of losing her completely. Now, I’ve learned to sit in silence with her, to hold her hand, and to watch nature together.

Sometimes, the most meaningful “conversation” doesn’t involve words at all.

Choose Calm Over Logic

When Mum gets upset, convinced she's got to “go home,” logic never helps.

“Mum, you are home” only made her more anxious.

Now, I say: “Home is lovely, isn't it? You're safe here with me. Would you like a cup of tea?”

Her face softens, and calm returns.

I’ve learned that when emotions are high, reassurance beats reasoning every time.

Your Tone Speaks Louder Than Words

People with Alzheimer’s may forget the meaning of a sentence, but they rarely forget how your tone made them feel. Softness, patience, and a gentle smile can carry more meaning than perfect phrasing ever will.

When I’m tired or frustrated, she senses it immediately. Our emotions still mirror each other. So, before I speak, I take a deep breath and try to remind myself: she’s not giving me a hard time; she’s having a hard time.

Let Go of the Need to Be Understood

This one was the hardest. I wanted her to know me, to remember that I’m her daughter, to say my name. But sometimes, she doesn’t. And that hurts more than I can say.

Still, when she smiles at me like I’m someone she trusts, even if she doesn’t know who, I remind myself: she may not know my name, but she still knows love.

That’s enough.

Final Thoughts

Talking to a parent with Alzheimer’s isn’t really about talking; it’s about feeling together. It’s about letting go of the old rules of conversation and finding new ways to connect through kindness, empathy, and patience. Speak less to correct and more to connect.