12/28/2025
Before BrainWave had a name, before it had structure, phases, or pretty language, there was just Papa.
Papa had Alzheimer’s and everyone had an opinion about what that meant he couldn’t do anymore.
What changed everything for me wasn’t what he lost. It was what I watched him do anyway.
Inside our day program, Papa made friends. Not staff. Not “other participants.” Friends. Friends he could recall by name long after he forgot other things.
He forgot who I was as his granddaughter.
That part hurt and I won’t pretend it didn’t but here’s what mattered more. He didn’t lose connection. He just rebuilt it. I wasn’t his granddaughter anymore. I was the lady at that place where his friends were.
And you know what...That was enough.
He felt safe there. He felt comfortable. He belonged. Papa formed new relationships. New routines. New moments that mattered, even if he couldn’t recall them later.
Things people love to say don’t happen once Alzheimer’s shows up. Watching Papa taught me something no training ever did.
Alzheimer’s doesn’t erase the need for belonging.
It doesn’t erase the ability to connect and it sure as hell doesn’t erase joy. What fails people with dementia isn’t the diagnosis. It’s the low bar we set for their lives afterward.
Memory loss does not mean life loss.
Identity doesn’t disappear; it shifts.
Connection doesn’t vanish; it changes shape.
Papa’s Place was never built around limitations.
It was built around possibility.
BrainWave didn’t start as a program. It started with a grandfather who showed me, day after day, that dignity, friendship, and purpose don’t require perfect memory. They require people willing to stop deciding what someone else is still capable of.
That’s the legacy here. That’s why Papa’s Place exists.
