Last month, I led my first Dementia Training for our caregivers and office team, centered on empathy for individuals living with dementia.
The training was born out of concern. I had recently witnessed several interactions between caregivers and families that made me pause. Were their responses rooted in misunderstanding? Or worse, did they believe the behaviors were intentional?
Then came the moment that truly shook me. As we opened the session, some caregivers shared their frustrations: “He’s difficult.” “He’s making it hard.” “He’s mean.” “He’s not listening to me.” Each comment hit me like a wave—not because of judgment, but because I saw an urgent opportunity to hold space, reframe, and teach.
What followed was one of the most powerful conversations I’ve had in this field.
As we began to unpack the truth about dementia—that it is a progressive brain disease, not a personality flaw—I witnessed a quiet transformation. Faces once marked by frustration softened with understanding. The realization took hold: our clients aren't being difficult—they're doing their best to make sense of a world that, to them, is becoming increasingly unfamiliar and unpredictable.
There were moments of clarity—caregivers connecting the dots between memory loss and fear, confusion, and aggression. There were moments of relief, recognizing they had been on the right path when they patiently entered the world of their clients. And yes, there were even moments of guilt—a quiet wish that they had known sooner, done better, or been more present. But above all, what I witnessed was a room full of commitment: the kind of deep, soul-rooted commitment that reminds us this is more than a job.
This is caregiving.
I share this reflection not just as a leader in home care, but as a human being in a season of renewal—a season of restored purpose and rediscovered heart for service.
Too often, the work of caregiving goes unnoticed. It is invisible, quiet, and unglamorous. But if we are to support aging in place—especially for those living with dementia—we must stop overlooking the very people who make it possible. Caregivers are not secondary. They are core.
This is not just a Care Indeed mission. This is a societal imperative.
To those reading this newsletter: may we choose not to remain passive observers. May we become advocates—fierce, informed, compassionate advocates.
Let this be our collective calling.
—Vanessa Valerio
