Diane Downing

For my Dad

Walking With Dad Through Dementia: 

Before dementia, my dad’s world was painted red — the red of Liverpool FC. Match days were sacred, and his voice would carry through the house with every goal, every cheer, every shout at the referee. When he wasn’t watching football, he loved going to the Liberal Club, catching up with friends over a pint, laughing, and being part of that familiar buzz.

That was Dad: social, passionate, and full of life.

When dementia entered our lives, things began to change. The man who could recall every player in Liverpool’s history now sometimes struggles to remember what day it is. The club where he once held conversations so easily now feels harder for him to navigate. And for me, watching those changes has been both heartbreaking and humbling.

Some days are heavy—the moments when he looks at me with confusion instead of recognition, or when his words tangle together. But there are also moments of light: when he suddenly hums “You’ll Never Walk Alone,” when his eyes light up at a football highlight, or when a familiar smile reminds me he’s still here, in ways that matter most.

This blog is my way of walking through dementia alongside him. I want to share the challenges honestly—the exhaustion, the grief, the patience it takes. But I also want to celebrate the love that hasn’t gone anywhere. My dad may not be the same as he was, but he is still my dad.

If you’re reading this as someone caring for a loved one with dementia, I hope my words help you feel less alone. Because in the end, dementia changes many things, but it can’t take away the bond between us.

After all, like Dad always believed—You’ll Never Walk Alone.