My father was diagnosed with Parkinson’s-related dementia and a few months later, my mother with Alzheimer’s disease. That was the year I became a family caregiver. While my parents didn’t reside with me, I was still intimately involved in their daily care for the next 4 and 5 years. While I cannot tell you it was easy or even pleasant traveling down that rabbit hole of dementia, for me it was a time of personal growth, as we maneuvered through the disease’s many challenges. Interspersed with those challenges were moments of tenderness and brief, fleeting times of lucidity in one or the other parent that I still cherish. I learned to parent my parents with patience and compassion; caring for them, much as they’d cared for meas a child, so many years ago.