Losing My Dad

They say that dementia is especially cruel because you lose the person you love twice. The first time is when they start losing their mind and although they are with you in body, they are no longer with you in the same way they were before. Slowly over time you lose more and more of who they were and eventually the relationship shifts to something akin to dealing with a very young child. The second time is when their body finally follows their mind into the next life. 

Of course, none of this is clean and clear. There are moments of clarity and lucidness. These are bittersweet windows into what you once had all the time. Then, with the simple turn of the head or a blink of the eyes, they are gone again. It is confusing and at time confounding. It is never the person’s fault but those of us who love them so much are tempted over and over to say, “Pull it together” or “Why don’t you just answer the question?” or “What you are talking about is completely made up in your head, can’t you see that?” or some version of these pleas for renewed sanity. 

This is what it has been like over the last 15 months in our lives. Losing him, regaining him, bad days, good days, and the ever-present knowledge that this is not going to get better, only worse. 

The last month of his life was a microcosm of everything I’ve written above. Dad developed pneumonia and was sent to the hospital. The infection exacerbated the dementia. The moments of lucidness were fewer and farther between and yet, in the midst of it all there were moments of clarity and visions of loved ones who had passed and a window into heaven in a way I had never heard described by anyone anywhere. He was at peace about going there and seemingly eager to take the next step. This was a gift to us as his family to know that he was ready to embrace his heavenly home because he was completely at peace with the Creator of the universe. 

Below are some of my writings during this journey. I hope they are helpful for someone. 

March 6, 2026

My brother and I have spent the last several days with my dad, Dale Spurgin in the hospital. He’s 93, has pneumonia, and dementia. 

His body is here but there is only a shadow of the man I once knew. None of it is his fault but watching the lack of recognition in his eyes and experiencing an unfamiliar personality in the shell of what was once my father is disconcerting, sometimes painful, and disorienting. Questions are ever before me.

Who is this person?

What am I to him now?

How do I relate?

How do I feel? 

How does he feel?

What can I do for him? 

Why won’t he let go? 

Then I remember who he has been my whole life…

I remember growing up on the farm and driving to town to buy parts and do business. He would walk into a bank, a store, or the granary and introduce my brother and I to the owner or manager for what seemed like, the twelfth time. He knew them all by name and they knew him. He was proud of his boys and wanted to make sure the people he knew, knew us. 

I never appreciated what was happening at the time. I just thought he forgot he had already introduced us. Only later, did I realize he was making a way for us–setting us up for success. “Look them in the eye, stand up straight, give a firm handshake, and speak clearly.” These were all small but incredibly important tools to help us find our way in a difficult world. This was training ground where boys learn how good men conduct themselves in a broken world. He was giving his boys a head start so we wouldn’t have to start from scratch. 

His philosophy was to always do business with people he had a relationship with, “even if it cost a little more.” Partly so he wouldn’t be cheated but also because he wanted to build a long-term relationship where he could be “a positive influence in their lives.” 

It worked. I remember businessmen pulling me aside and whispering, “You should be proud to be Dale’s son. He is a really good man. He’s so honest.” As a kid I remember thinking, “Isn’t everybody like that?” As I got older it became more and more apparent how unusual my dad was.

Good dad’s make a way for their kids. They set a standard, bring discipline, love wholeheartedly, and by doing so, reveal the ultimate Father to their children. None of us do it perfectly but even a little effort can go a long way in your kid’s lives.

March 11, 2026

Last night at 10:33pm my dad (Dale Spurgin) went to be with Jesus. As his family we are all terribly sad to see him go and grateful for the life he lived. 

He loved well, forgave often, and never held a grudge. 

His hands were often dirty from farming but his heart was beautiful. 

He worked like it all depended on him but prayed like it all depended on God. 

His love for his family was only superseded by his love for Jesus. 

He will be terribly missed by many but none more than those he called his family. 

March 17, 2026

We bury my dad today. It is truly surreal and sad. He has been part of my very existence from day one. After six decades how do you say “goodbye”?

I don’t. 

I won’t.

I don’t have to.

Because his life was centered on his faith in God 

Because that wasn’t just lip-service but the reality of his everyday life. 

Because he taught us, mostly by example, to do the same.

Because the grace of God drew us both to a relationship with Jesus. 

I don’t have to say “Goodbye,” but simply, “See you later, dad!”