A few days ago, I shared a blog post about moving parents with dementia, and I received a comment that stopped me in my tracks:

"My Dad had just mild dementia, and it was hard to guide Mom not to 'logic him' out of 'lies' but to be inquisitive about his reality and perceptions." ~Jane

Jane nailed something I've seen play out hundreds of times in my 20 years as a CNA and now in our moving work: The person who needs the most support during a dementia transition often isn't the one with the diagnosis.

It's their spouse.

The Conversation Nobody Prepares You For

Most adult children brace themselves for the hard conversation with Mom or Dad about why it's time to move. They research memory care facilities, they talk to doctors, they prepare all their logical arguments about safety and quality of life.

But then they hit a wall they didn't see coming.

It's not Dad with dementia who's refusing to go along with the plan. It's Mom - the exhausted, devoted caregiver spouse - who keeps undermining the transition by correcting him, arguing with him, trying to pull him back into a reality that no longer makes sense to him.

And here's the thing: She's not being difficult. She's being a good wife.

For forty, fifty, maybe sixty years, being a good spouse meant keeping each other grounded in reality. It meant correcting each other, keeping each other sharp, being each other's memory when one of you forgot something.

Now you're asking her to do the exact opposite. And it feels like betrayal. It feels like lying. It feels like giving up on him.

The Fear Nobody Talks About

But there's something else happening too, something I saw constantly as a CNA and still see now during moves.

The caregiving spouse is terrified.

They're covering up the symptoms. They're answering for their partner in doctor's appointments. They're explaining away the missed medications, the repeated questions, the stove left on. They're working themselves to exhaustion keeping up the appearance that everything is manageable.

Because they know what comes next.

If people see how bad it really is, someone will say it's time for a nursing home. And that means losing everything - their home, their independence, their person, their life as they know it.

So they keep correcting. They keep covering. They keep insisting "he just has good days and bad days" or "she's always been forgetful." They become the buffer between their spouse and the world that wants to take them away.

And I get it. I really do.

They don't want to give up their home - the place where they raised their kids, celebrated anniversaries, built a whole life together. They don't want to give up their spouse to some sterile facility where strangers provide care. They don't want to become the person who "put them away."

That fear is real. That grief is real. And that loyalty is beautiful - even when it's working against everyone's safety and wellbeing.

What I Saw as a CNA

I can't count how many times I watched this unfold in memory care units and hospice settings.

The wife who would visit every day and spend the whole hour correcting her husband. "No, we had chicken for dinner last night, not fish." "No, your mother isn't coming - she passed away twenty years ago." "No, you don't work at the factory anymore, you're retired."

Every correction creating more agitation. Every "No, that's not right" pulling him further away from her. Every attempt to anchor him in her reality making him feel more lost, more confused, more upset.

And the exhaustion on her face. The frustration. The grief of feeling like she was losing him faster every day - when actually, the correcting was creating the very distance she was trying to prevent.

But here's what I also saw: Many of these spouses had spent months or even years before placement doing this same correcting - but for a different reason. Back then, they were correcting to prove to the world (and maybe to themselves) that he was still sharp, still capable, still the man they married. The correcting was protective. It was loyal. It was love.

The problem is, once placement happens and the secret is out, they don't know how to stop. The habit of correcting has become so ingrained that even when there's no one left to fool, they keep doing it - now out of habit, grief, and the desperate hope that maybe if they just remind him enough, he'll come back to them.

Then something would shift. Maybe a nurse would gently model a different approach. Maybe she'd see another family member step into his reality instead of fighting it. Maybe she'd just reach a point of such exhaustion that she stopped resisting.

And the first time she said "Oh, your mother's coming? That's wonderful, what are you going to talk about?" instead of "No she's not, she's been dead for twenty years" - you could see the relief wash over both of them.

His agitation melted. Her shoulders dropped. They could just be together again instead of fighting about what was real.

That's when the real healing started. That's when she could start being his wife again instead of his corrector, his prover, his shield against the world.

How This Shows Up During Moves

We see this dynamic play out constantly during moving day, and it's one of the reasons our trauma-informed approach makes such a difference.

Picture this: We're packing up a couple's home of 40 years. Dad has dementia. The adult children have arranged the move to assisted living. Mom is exhausted but cooperating - sort of.

We're in the bedroom, and Dad asks where we're taking his things.

The adult daughter, who's done her homework, says brightly: "We're taking these to your new apartment with the garden view, Dad. You're going to love the patio."

But before he can respond, Mom jumps in: "No, Jim, we're moving you to the memory care unit because you can't live at home anymore. You kept leaving the stove on, remember?"

And just like that, Dad's confused expression turns to anger or fear or resistance. The whole day shifts. The move that was going smoothly becomes a battle.

Sometimes it's coming from that old protective instinct - she's been honest-to-a-fault their whole marriage, and lying feels wrong. But sometimes, I can see it's more than that. It's anger. It's grief. It's her way of saying "This is really happening and it's not fair and I don't want to pretend it's okay."

And I understand that too.

This is where we step in - not just as movers, but as the bridge between realities and between generations.

We gently redirect. We become the translators. "Jim, these boxes are going to make your new place feel like home. Which chair do you want in the living room?" We keep him in the present moment, in the doing, not in the debating.

And sometimes, we quietly pull the spouse aside. We share what we know from our CNA background. We help them understand that meeting him where he is isn't lying - it's loving him in the language he can still understand. That they can finally stop being the protector, the prover, the shield. That secret they've been keeping? It's safe now. They can rest.

Why Real Estate Agents Need to Know This

If you work with families in transition - especially SRES agents helping seniors downsize or move to care facilities - this dynamic is happening with your clients all the time, whether you see it or not.

The adult children are stuck between their parent with dementia and their other parent who's been covering, correcting, and protecting for months or years. The caregiving spouse is grieving the loss of their home, their independence, and their role as protector - all while trying to navigate a transition they never wanted.

This creates:

• Move delays - because the caregiving spouse is undermining the transition, sometimes unconsciously
• Family conflict - because adult children are trying to advocate for both parents at once while the spouse feels like the enemy
• Failed transitions - because the person with dementia picks up on the tension and resistance, and the whole family system is working against itself

When you refer your clients to movers who understand this - who have clinical background in dementia care, who can work with the

whole family system, not just the logistics - you're not just ensuring a smoother closing.

You're giving your clients a fighting chance at a successful transition. You're giving that exhausted spouse permission to finally stop carrying it all alone.

The Knowledge That Matters Most

Here's what I want every family to know, whether we move you or not:

Meeting your loved one where they are - in their reality, in their timeline, in their perceptions - isn't giving up on them.

It's the most loving thing you can do.

When your dad says he needs to go pick up the kids from school (and those "kids" are now 50), you don't have to correct him. You can ask, "Which school are they at today?" and let him tell you about his reality. The agitation drops. The connection returns.

When your mom says she needs to make dinner for her mother who's been gone for thirty years, you don't have to remind her. You can ask, "What are you going to make?" and be in that moment with her.

It's hard on us. It feels like we're lying. It goes against every instinct we have as people who love them.

But it's easier for them. And at this stage, that's what matters most.

And for those caregiving spouses who've been protecting, covering, and correcting for so long - you can stop now. You've been so loyal, so strong, so devoted. You've done everything you could to keep them home, to keep them safe, to keep them yours.

But you don't have to be their shield anymore. You can just be their person again.

We're Here to Help - Whether You Move or Not

At S.B. Taylor Moving, we bring 20 years of CNA experience to every dementia-related move. We understand the brain science behind why correcting doesn't work. We know how to communicate with your loved one in ways that reduce agitation and preserve dignity. And we know how to support the whole family - including that exhausted caregiving spouse who's been carrying the weight of protection and now needs permission to put it down.

If you're a family member navigating this transition, we're here. If you're a real estate agent who wants to refer your clients to movers who truly understand dementia care, let's talk.

And if you're that caregiving spouse who's been correcting for months or years because you didn't know there was another way - it's okay. You've been loving them the best way you knew how. You kept their secret. You protected them as long as you could. Now you know a different way. And it's never too late to start meeting them where they are.

Brie Grant is co-owner of S.B. Taylor Moving, a women-owned, federally licensed moving company specializing in trauma-informed moving services. With 20 years of experience as a CNA working with Alzheimer's and dementia patients, she brings clinical expertise to every senior transition.