Courtney Deaton on the lessons she learned caring for nan Violet
When dementia claimed her grandmother's memories but not her love, Courtney Deaton turned her family's painful journey into a mission for change.
My Nan Violet was diagnosed with vascular dementia, and from that moment, our family’s life changed.
Watching someone we love gradually lose pieces of themselves was heartbreaking, but it also taught us patience, resilience, and the importance of finding joy in small moments.
I witnessed first-hand how dementia affects not only memory but also personality, emotions, and daily functioning.
Nan would have moments of confusion and frustration, but there were also beautiful moments where she would recall old memories or share a laugh with us.
Nan would sometimes ask the same question over and over, not remembering she had just asked it. At first it was heartbreaking, but we learned patience and how to gently redirect her.
There were days when she didn’t recognise me, and that was one of the hardest things to be right there but feel invisible in her world.
The good days she would often talk about her babies, and then about us grandkids growing up out on the farm. You could see her whole face light up with happiness as she shared those memories those were the moments we treasured.
These moments reminded us that while dementia takes a lot, it doesn’t take away love.
Nan passed away aged 77 – from diagnosis to her passing approximately 2.5 years.
Her diagnosis led me to educate myself about dementia and find ways to help her feel safe, valued, and included. Whether it was creating familiar routines, using music to spark memories, or simply holding her hand when words failed her, I learned that connection goes beyond language.
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Dementia doesn’t just affect the person diagnosed – it impacts the entire family.
Caring for Nan deepened my understanding of the challenges families face, from the emotional weight of seeing a loved one change to the practical challenges of care giving.
Dementia doesn’t just affect memory; it changes personality, emotions, and daily life.
My family had to adjust, learning how to communicate with Nan in new ways and support each other through the emotional toll.
It was overwhelming at times, especially as we navigated the unpredictable nature of vascular dementia, but we also became stronger together.
It also reinforced my passion for raising awareness, breaking the stigma around dementia, and supporting others going through similar experiences.
Watching someone you love lose parts of themselves is devastating, but it also opened my eyes to how much more we could be doing for people living with dementia and their families.
Families are left navigating an overwhelming maze of services, decisions, and emotions, often without any clear guidance on what to do next. That has to change.
We need a national conversation about brain health. Dementia is not just an “old person’s illness.” Australians over 40 should be encouraged to speak to their GP about brain health checks, just as they would for their heart or blood pressure. Early detection matters, not only for treatment options, but for allowing families to plan, adapt, and make the most of the time they have.
We also need dementia care navigators, dedicated people who can guide families from the moment of diagnosis, helping them understand their options, access support, and feel less alone. Just like breast care nurses have transformed cancer care, dementia care navigators could transform the dementia journey.
Beyond medical care, we need to change the narrative. Dementia takes so much, but it doesn’t take away love, connection, or the ability to live meaningfully.
My Nan loved her garden, sewing, and telling the same family stories and even as those stories faded, moments of laughter and connection still shone through.
Her journey inspired me to write a children’s book about dementia called Through Billie’s Eyes, to help families explain it gently to young children and spark greater understanding in the community.
(When my Nan was diagnosed, my daughter was still very young, and I found it really hard to explain what was happening in a way she could understand. That’s what inspired me to write the book, I wanted something gentle but honest, that could help children make sense of dementia. Writing it was emotional at times, but also healing. It gave me a way to share our family’s story, while hopefully giving other families a tool to start those conversations with their own kids.
My hope is that one day, every person diagnosed and every family member beside them will have the awareness, support, and compassion they deserve.
Dementia may have taken my Nan’s memories, but it will never take my determination to fight for earlier action, stronger support, and a kinder journey for those who walk this path.