How are you, Mei?

Dear Tommy:

This will be a long post, but before anything else, I want you to know that there is no criticism here—only appreciation for you. I think well of you—no lingering anger or resentment, just genuine care and positive regard.

“If all the research was right then my mother should not have (dementia) nor any of her siblings. Yeah, age may be the major factor, but it isn’t the only one… My grandfather on my father’s side was balding in his forties. My father also. I too have that genetic trait. So, I can see what gets passed on.”-

Balding in men is highly hereditary. Dementia, on the other hand, is largely not hereditary. While balding has a strong genetic component, dementia is mostly shaped by non-genetic factors like diet, exercise, and brain activity—which means your future is still yours to shape.

“I dismissed my grandmother when she asked for the way home. It did not occur to me that she was having an episode. I was young and having fun with friends. She was lost for half the day. My mother spent that day looking for her. The guilt was overwhelming.” (June 2, 2025)-

I remembered that story and thought you had shared about it recently, so I started going through your posts back in time. To my surprise, it was long ago that you first shared it (and I still remembered!). It was on January 9, 2022:

“When I was about 13 years old, I saw my grandmother in the park near our apartment. She was asking which was the way home. I was busy with my friends and pointed in the general direction. Later, I got home to see my mother go out looking for my grandmother. My grandmother was lost. She had an episode of dementia and lost her memory of where we lived. I felt terrible for not having taken her home. We did eventually find her. Years later, she passed away. Now recently, my mom passed away. When I saw her in the hospital, she also developed dementia and did not recognize me. I remembered what happened years ago. And this is what I have to look forward to, losing my memory.”-

Comparing the two accounts, Tommy, it seems that you have reframed this memory over time, shaping it into a narrative of self-blame and dismissal—”I dismissed my grandmother.”

The phrase “dismissed” suggests a harsh, deliberate neglect, when in reality, your actions at 13 were simply those of a young boy caught between his carefree world and an unfolding situation he, at 13, couldn’t (and shouldn’t be expected to) fully understand.

In the original telling, you pointed her in the general direction—an act that, at face value, was not cruel or dismissive. You were a young teenager, unaware of her dementia episode, and assumed she could find her way home. Yet, over the years, your guilt has intensified, reshaping this memory into the belief that you actively dismissed her.

This shift signals a deep emotional burden, where perhaps you retroactively assigned blame to yourself as a way to make sense of your lingering regret. It’s as if your younger self’s innocence and the moment’s fleeting nature became swallowed by the enormity of what followed—her dementia, then her death, then your mother’s passing, your sister’s, and others.

I think this incident, at 13, may have marked the moment your carefree mindset fractured. At 13, children often still exist in a bubble of youthful fearlessness, where worries are few and the world feels wide open. But this singular event introduced you to a stark reality—your actions (or inactions) could have consequences you weren’t prepared for.

The memory of this day seems to have lodged itself in your psyche, not just as an isolated regret but as a turning point that led to self-doubt, fear of making mistakes, and an unbearable weight of responsibility.

It seems like your fear of dementia is tied to the losses you’ve experienced, as though fate must follow the same path. But those losses were never your fault, and your future is still yours to shape.

“I am not a good person.” (July 11, 2024) “But, I do try to be civil (not evil). Don’t always succeed. But try.” (July 4, 2024)-

But you are a good person, Tommy. And at 13, you were a good boy! That 13-year-old boy, pointing toward home, was not an evil boy—he was just a child being a child.

“I am sorry that I have no sympathy for you. You are suffering due to your own actions and your own choices. Looks like I have lost my compassion. I can not give you a kind word.” (June 18, 2024, from your reply to a member)-

I see you projecting your inner feelings onto others. It’s as if you were talking to yourself: “I have no sympathy for you, Tommy. You are suffering due to your own actions and your own choices. I cannot give you a kind word, Tommy.”

But you deserve sympathy. You deserve kindness—especially from yourself.

“You want freedom from this obstruction? You find forgiveness. Yes, forgive. Forgive them and yourself. This doesn’t mean to just let it go. You have to find the ability in yourself to forgive. Then, pain, anger, thoughts, memories will lessen. Moving forward will happen.” (January 18, 2024, advice you offered another member)-

Just the right advice for yourself, Tommy. Forgive the 13-year-old who was playing carefree as children should. He didn’t mean anything bad—he was just a boy being a boy. And since then, you didn’t make bad things happen. You had no part in causing the illnesses and deaths of the people closest to you. It wasn’t your fault.

“The only judgment that counts is yours. Family can say whatever they want. It is your happiness that matters most.” (February 28, 2022, another piece of advice you offered another member)-

The only judgment that counts, Tommy, is your own. Your peace of mind matters most. And you deserve peace. You deserve to finally label yourself: Not Guilty.

“When younger, I used to read the Reader’s Digest. In it was a section called, ‘Laughter: The Best Medicine.’ Of all the animals on this earth, there is only one that can laugh. Humans. There is no real rhyme or reason for it. But, it does make one happy. I like to be happy.” (June 23, 2022)-

You deserve to be happy, Tommy. You do not deserve to carry guilt that was never yours to carry.

“When I was younger, I liked to fix things. If a lamp stopped working then I would try to fix it. It made sense of the world. So, I learned to fix plumbing, electrical work, and cars. I have fixed a few TVs and one video cassette player… Simple stuff. I don’t know what it will be like to live without being able to help fix things.” (June 1, 2025)-

Maybe the part of you that took on guilt long ago is waiting to be released. What if, like fixing a lamp, you could gently repair the way you see yourself?

Anita