Hello, today I wanted to talk a little bit about anticipatory grief. My dad has been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease, and though he still knows who I am, I find myself mourning in small ways already. It’s a strange kind of loss, one that unfolds gradually, piece by piece, moment by moment. Some days when I visit, he’s more himself, and I can pretend everything is fine. Other days, the fog is just starting to settle in, and I see more signs of memory loss creeping in.

Through work, I’ve sat with many people in their grief, helping them navigate their pain, but nothing quite prepares you for a new bout of your own. Anticipatory grief is the mourning that happens before the final loss, a slow grieving process as we watch someone we love change, fade, or slip beyond our reach. It carries all the familiar emotions of grief: sadness, anger, fear, even guilt, except it stretches over time, an ongoing ache rather than a singular event.

For me, one of the hardest parts has been the anticipation of how dad is going to be each time I visit, given a few more weeks have passed. Right now, Dad recognises me immediately, I update him about my life, and he still tells stories I’ve heard a hundred times but will never tire of hearing. Yet I know that won’t always be the case, and I dread the day when recognition falters. For now, I try to stay present, to hold onto the moments of clarity, and soak up the laughter when it comes.

Anticipatory grief is lonely. There’s no clear end point, no defined stages to move through in an orderly fashion, not that any grief is linear. People often don’t recognise it as grief at all because, technically, the person is still alive. For those of us going through it, we know and we feel the loss deeply, even before it fully arrives.

So how do we cope? I wish there were a simple answer. I'm privileged to be able to access personal therapy so I have explored my anticipatory grief there and come up with some coping strategies: I remind myself to be present in the moment, to accept dad as he is right now, to cherish the humour we still share. I let myself grieve, knowing that my sadness is a reflection of my love. I focus on my self care and I find comfort in small rituals, taking photos with dad, making new memories for us, even as his memory fades. I even managed to get him playing a bit of table tennis again which was fun, if not a tad windy, being outdoors in Yorkshire! I also took part in a sponsored walk, walking 1K a day for Dementia UK for the month of February, which was good for my mental health and helped me feel that I was doing something useful, in a very uncertain time and reminded me there are still things to smile about and enjoy.

If you’re experiencing anticipatory grief, know that your pain is valid. You don’t have to wait until the final goodbye to acknowledge your loss. Talk about it, write about it, let yourself feel it. Grief, in all its forms, is a testament to love. Even as memories fade, love remains.

If you are struggling with your own grief and would like therapeutic support, please reach out via my contact form on my website or to mary@marymulherin.com.