04/11/2025
When Life Changes Without Warning
Life has a way of rewriting our plans without asking for permission. Nearly ten years ago, I lost Preeti — a sudden, unimaginable loss that shook the very foundation of my existence. Until then, the word grief was just a word. That moment changed everything. I shut down my businesses, withdrew from the world, and took refuge in what many called charity — but in truth, it was survival. That phase led me toward understanding pain, privilege, and purpose — eventually pulling me into the world of senior living and eldercare. Caring for elders became my way of staying human.
Today, I find myself at another crossroads — one I never expected but now cannot ignore.
Just before Diwali, my 83-year-old mother suffered a seizure. She escaped a coma, but the recovery revealed a deeper loss: much of her memory was gone. We had noticed early signs of dementia, but nothing prepares you for the day it becomes real. Overnight, I shifted from being an eldercare advocate to becoming a family caregiver — confused, emotional, and painfully aware of how unprepared our ecosystem is.
For months, at Elder First, we have been discussing how to serve dementia-affected elders. But when the crisis walks into your own home, the conversation turns into responsibility. I now see first-hand how families struggle — not just medically, but emotionally, socially, and logistically. There are no manuals. No roadmaps. Just fear, fatigue, and love trying to survive each day.
I am sharing this not for sympathy, but for solidarity and awareness. We speak openly about cancer, heart disease, even depression — but dementia still lives in whispers behind closed doors, wrapped in confusion, guilt, and helplessness. By telling my own story now, while I am still in the middle of it, I hope to make space for others to speak, to seek help, to realise they are not failing — they are simply navigating a reality no one prepared them for. If we want change, we must first break the silence.
What will this lead to? I am still processing. But I know this: just as losing Preeti pushed me into eldercare, this moment is pushing me into memory care. Dementia is not just a medical condition — it is an emotional earthquake for families. And too many are suffering in silence because the support system simply does not exist.
So yes — this is my next calling. If my pain can pave even a small path for others, then it must. I will do whatever it takes to make life a little easier for elders living with dementia — and for the caregivers who love them, break for them, and show up every day with courage.
