A Different Kind of Thanksgiving

Dear friend,

As Thanksgiving approaches, I know you might be feeling a mixture of emotions. Maybe you're hopeful about gathering together. Maybe you're anxious about how the day will unfold. Maybe you're grieving the Thanksgivings that used to be. Wherever you are in that spectrum, I want you to know: you're not alone, and whatever this holiday looks like for you is exactly right.

The truth is, Thanksgiving with dementia rarely looks like the Norman Rockwell painting. The crowded table, the noise, the schedule changes, the unfamiliar faces—all of it can be overwhelming for someone living with dementia. But connection matters more than tradition. Love shows up in quieter, simpler ways now. And that's not a loss—it's just different.

A Few Things That Might Help This Week

Keep the environment calm. If you're hosting, consider a smaller, quieter gathering. Too many people and too much stimulation can trigger confusion and anxiety. It's okay to celebrate with just a few people—or even just the two of you.

Stick to routines as much as possible. Try to keep mealtimes, medication times, and rest periods close to their normal schedule. The familiar is comforting when everything else feels chaotic.

Create a quiet retreat space. Set up a room where your loved one can step away if things get overwhelming. Sometimes fifteen minutes of quiet can reset everything.

Skip the cooking marathon. This isn't the year to make everything from scratch. Store-bought is fine. Simplified is fine. A turkey sandwich can be Thanksgiving dinner if that's what works.

Lower your expectations—and I mean really lower them. If they're present, if there's a moment of eye contact or a smile, if they seem peaceful—that's enough. That's everything, actually.

Take photos of the small moments. Not the perfect group shot, but the gentle ones. Their hands holding a warm cup. The afternoon light on their face. These are the memories that will matter.

My Gift to You (And to Me)

I'm taking the rest of this week off from the newsletter. I'm going to be with my own family, sitting in the imperfect, beautiful messiness of it all. And I hope you'll give yourself that same grace—to be fully present, to let some things go, to rest.

We'll be back together next week, and I'll be here whenever you need support, encouragement, or just someone who understands.

Until then, I'm sending you so much love. However you spend this Thanksgiving—whether it's peaceful or hard, whether it looks like you imagined or nothing like it—I hope you find moments of genuine connection. That's what this holiday is really about anyway.

Take care of yourself, friend. You're doing something extraordinary every single day.

With warmth and gratitude,
Donna

P.S. If Thanksgiving feels too hard this year, that's okay too. There's no rule that says you have to celebrate. Sometimes the most loving thing we can do is simply make it through the day with kindness—for them and for ourselves.

Check out my other newsletter for anyone caring for a loved one with dementia!