One of my worst childhood memories was having my grandmother take me on a walk and accuse me of stealing her clothes. My heart dropped, how could my beloved grandmother even think I would do such a thing. I returned to my dad in tears, which is when I first became aware of Alzheimer’s.

My grandmother’s condition deteriorated over time. We fumbled around the devastating moments when she didn’t remember us or became scared of where she was. I wondered what it must feel like to be lost in your own body, in a life that you built.

I’m now an adult, watching my dad start to show potentially mild symptoms. It’s a stark reminder that this disease is genetic, so now I am making it my mission to learn more about it. What are preventative steps and how can we collectively save others. I’m so appreciative that this movement exists.