Graphic Designer + Digital Photographer + Writer

This picture isn't pretty, I know it. But it's real. It's what dementia looks like. My Dad's condition inspires me to take lots of pictures. I feel compelled to document everything I experience. And grip every memory made. Because one day, I may not have them? Many of my childhood memories were frozen in time with the thousands of pictures and videos my Dad took of our family. As a kid, I spent countless hours in our basement, shuffling through photographs from the previous year's vacation/birthday/holiday/event. It was a hobby, to just sit by myself and look at pictures. I remember admiring that my Dad didn't throw out the bad ones. I loved the candid people, in strange positions, awkward faces, blurred moments. Today I have a hell of a time deleting pictures because of this very notion. I save everything. Too much. But I also remember being annoyed by his relentless insistence that we watch the videos. He seemed so compelled to relive them. Of course, he couldn't have known the memories in those pictures would be wiped from his mind before he even turned 60. But, thanks to him, they're not gone from mine. Life is short. Take lots of pictures to remember, in case some day you can't. My Dad inspired me, and in this girls mind, he's the best! Happy Father's Day to my Pops and every Dad out there! 🙂❤️ 📸 #daughterofdementia #daddysgirl #fuckdementia @theaftd

What is he thinking...is he thinking? Dementia is mysterious, and catastrophic. Happy fourth, Mark Cendroski. He was the master of celebrating holidays, and always put on quite a show on the 4th 😉👌🎇🎆✨#fuckdementia #visitingdad #livingwithaghost @theaftd (at Bethesda Dilworth)

My Dad was in good form today. It took some convincing, but finally got him outside. He perked up when he noticed the boys running around. 🤗#mythreesons always bring a smile to his face. 😊 (at Bethesda Dilworth)

Kisses for Poppy 😘#arlothegoodbaby #fuckdementia #daddysgirl @theaftd (at Bethesda Dilworth)

Bringing smiles 🤗💖 #arlothegoodbaby #livingwithdementia @theaftd (at Bethesda Dilworth)

I try to not force Zain and Cyrus to hug or make physical contact with my Dad if they don't want to. They're a bit freaked out and keep a safe distance. Zain's the only one who can actually remember my Dad before dementia symptoms. So I get it, they don't understand why he looks and acts the way he does. But Arlo has never known any different. And he's still young enough to not really judge yet. He's not afraid to touch him or be close. It makes me happy to see him treat my Dad just like any old (healthy) Grandpa. He says, hi Poppy and bye Poppy enthusiastically. He gives him hugs and kisses. I'm grateful I can freeze this moment and share the happiness I feel when I see it. 🤗❣️💓 #arlothegoodbaby #livingwithdementia @theaftd (at Bethesda Dilworth)

Mark looking good after a haircut from @mwalshpiasecki ✂️🤗❤️. Thanks, Mary, Nancy and Joe for the company! #livingwithdementia (at Bethesda Dilworth)

No matter what he's doing, Arlo Mark can always bring a smile to Grandpa Mark's face. 🤗❤️#livingwithdementia #marksmiles #arlothegoodbaby (at Bethesda Dilworth)

My Dad can barely speak and doesn't recognize anyone, so we were all taken aback today when we asked him who he saw in the reflection, and he said "me". Obviously with dementia there's never improvement, but there are small victories and surprises. This was one. I was stunned by his response, especially considering he rarely even replies to questions. I feel content that at least for now, he still hasn't lost himself. #themindisamazing #fuckdementia @theaftd (at Bethesda Dilworth)

If I could illustrate the dreams I've been having, where my Dad is in this limbo reality--this image would be a runner up for it. #fuckdementia @theaftd (at Bethesda Dilworth)

#arlothegoodbaby and his Poppy sharing cookies 🍪 #sundayswithdad #fuckdementia (at Bethesda Dilworth)

❤️ Sundays with my Pops #sundayswithdad #fuckdementia @theaftd (at Bethesda Dilworth)

Donuts with Dad 🍩 Happy Birthday to my Pops, Mark Cendroski! Looking good at 68 ❤️🎂🎈🍩 #68yearsold #livingwithdementia #FTD @theaftd (at Bethesda Dilworth)

Celebrating 68 🎂 A smile from my Dad, surrounded by old friends from SLU, Mizzou, and Anheuser-Busch. Our family is fortunate to have so many who love and care for my Mom and Dad. We’re grateful for all the love and support. ❤️ #birthdayparty #livingwithdementia (at Bethesda Dilworth)

In 2013 at 61, my Dad, Mark was diagnosed with Frontotemporal dementia. He had recently retired from Anheuser-Busch after 35 years as an electrical engineer. Doctors believe it began years before that. With each year we lose a little more of him. But as bad as it gets, there’s always still a glimmer of that Mark Cendroski spirit—a big Cheshire smile, an “I love you so much”, a firm hand shake, a “hi honey”, a few whistled notes from his favorite song. There’s always a “ping” that he’s still in there somewhere. Dementia hasn’t taken all of him. Today he was surrounded by family and friends who love him dearly. We’re grateful as ever to celebrate each Birthday with him. Cheers to 68, Dad! Keep smiling. #birthdayparty #livingwithdementia #FTD #fuckdementia (at Bethesda Dilworth)

Just about any music will evoke a reaction (if ya know Mark Cendroski at all 💁🏼‍♀️)—but the Beatles, “When I’m 64” always guarantees a big smile! 😁🎶🎶 #hisfavoritesong #marksmiles #fuckdementia @theaftd (at Bethesda Dilworth)

Was out and about running errands today, doing final preps for hosting a birthday party. After last stop, I debated heading home or a visit with my Dad. Fully aware I had limited time, and spoilable food in car, including a birthday cake, I decided I can’t afford the time—I should go home. Then the mental nudge. That melancholy, nudge—that I’ll regret this moment’s decision someday, when he’s gone. I’ll think, “that was a precious, numbered opportunity to still see him—be in his presence. See him breathing/sleeping/smiling. And I passed it up. And now he’s gone—dead and gone; wiped from existence, never to lay eyes on again.” And I’ll deeply wish I would have gone. So, I changed my mind. I found him like this, sleeping in another patient’s bed, as he routinely does. I lost my breath in the moment and tears welled. I don’t know why—I always see him like this. I grabbed a tissue and sat on the bed next to him, rubbed his back and talked to him. He stirred a bit. I played some songs on my phone—fascinated to see how far I can push the boundaries of dementia. Will the music worm through his brain and evoke an emotion as it sometimes does when he’s awake? The first couple songs didn’t do the trick. Then I was interrupted by the rightful owner of the bed. After 15 minutes of the nurse and I trying to get him up, he was finally in his own bed. I spoon-fed him lunch while the nurses sat on either side keeping him upright. We talked about St. Patrick’s Day and my Dad’s Mom’s Irish lineage. The nurse said they intentionally put him in that green shirt for the occasion! 🤗☘️ They thanked *me* for helping feed him—I thanked *them* for, um, everything! As I fast-walked to my car—now genuinely concerned about the state of milk and cake; I thought about how perspective changes when you’re forced to stare down death on a daily basis. I thought about how my parents must have felt during the years my 10-year-old brother battled brain cancer. I thought about how precious and short life is. How nothing is as important as the moment you’re in right now; and that you can control some things, some of the time. I’m glad I chose to see him. 💚 @theaftd (at Bethesda Dilworth)