Forgetfulness or Dementia? What Happened to Aunty Mei

Aunty Mei was the life of every family gathering. Her food brought us together, and her stories—full of colour and laughter—were unforgettable. She could remember every detail from the past, down to what she wore at a cousin’s wedding 30 years ago.

But slowly, things started to change.

At first, we didn’t think much of it. She would ask the same question more than once, misplace her glasses (which we later found in the fridge), or call her grandson by her son’s name. We brushed it off.
“It’s just old age,” we told ourselves. After all, everyone forgets things sometimes… right?

Then one day, she didn’t come home from the market.

She had gone to the same market for over three decades. The vendors knew her. They’d keep aside the best vegetables just for her. But that day, she got lost. Hours passed. Her daughter, Siew Ling, received a call from a kind stranger who found her standing by the roadside—confused, scared, unsure of where she was. She couldn’t remember which bus to take. She didn’t even remember her own address.

That was the moment we knew this was something serious.

We brought her to the doctor, hoping it was something simple—maybe lack of sleep, vitamins, or stress. But after tests and scans, the answer came: early-stage dementia. A word no one wants to hear, but deep down, we knew it explained everything.

The missed names. The forgotten words. The repeated questions. These weren’t just “senior moments.” They were warning signs we didn’t catch.

We began to understand the difference.
Forgetting where you put your keys? Normal.
Forgetting what keys are for? That’s not.
Occasionally blanking on someone’s name? It happens.
But struggling to remember close family—again and again—is a red flag.

She would get confused mid-conversation. She once forgot how to get home from a road she’d walked her whole life. These were the signs we wish we’d understood earlier.

In the beginning, Aunty Mei didn’t believe it.
“I’m just old,” she would say.
“This happens to everyone.”
But over time, she could feel the difference. She would lose words mid-sentence. She would wake up at night thinking it was morning. She was frustrated, and scared.

It was not easy for our family.

Siew Ling had to learn how to speak gently. We couldn’t argue or correct her too harshly. Routines had to be made simple. We labelled everything in the house. We wrote reminders. Most importantly, we made sure she was never left alone outside.

There were tough moments—but also beautiful ones.

We learned patience. We learned how to slow down. We realised how important it is to be present. Even if she can’t remember every detail, her eyes still light up when we sit with her, show her old photos, or hold her hand.

Dementia takes away memories, yes—but it doesn’t take away love. And it doesn’t take away the person we care about.

If there’s one lesson we want to share—it’s this:
Forgetfulness is part of life. But when it starts to affect daily living, don’t wait. Get help.
Because sometimes, it’s more than just aging. It’s something more serious—and catching it early can make a big difference.