I'm not very good at this. I usually lightly throw it into conversation when it is relevant, or make a casual joke about it.

The one time I tried to talk about this illness, in a serious manner, was my freshman year of high school. I was giving a speech on the issue, and, of course, started crying (thank god for all-girls schools and lots of hugs).

My dad has Alzheimer's disease/Dementia. My dad has had Alzheimer's for as long as I can remember; if I were to try and guess, at least since I was in 4th grade — that's about ten years.

I would often stay after school just to put it off a little bit longer. I would practically live at my friend's homes on the weekends sometimes; they seemed to have their ish together, they did family activities and pictures, they were always happy, they were normal. Granted I know now no family is perfect, but at the time anything seemed better.

You would think because of my dad's illness, I would have that whole "patience is a virtue" thing down — I definitely do not. There were always lots of fights, yelling, things breaking, etc. My mother is a trooper for putting up with it all more so than I do. My brother keeps tabs on the situation while I am away at college, but that doesn't mean I don't feel bad sometimes for leaving her there.

Everyone else in the family always tried to make the situation easier, or say they "understand," they "know how [my] father can be," or they "remember what it was like with so-and-so." I appreciate, but you don't know it all.

I know I would cry in my room... a lot.

I know my mom would too... a lot.

-But of course, we never dare do it at the same time or together.-

I know help with homework was never really a thing since you didn't remember it all.

I know the checkbook is always a mess because you forget to write purchases in.

I know family members try and balance it for you and you rarely cooperate.

I know it is my mom's job to drive places, write the checks at the store for you, cook for you two, make and remember appointments for you and her, make phone calls for you, etc.

I know my brother spends a large amount of his weekends (more than he should) helping at the house, fixing things that you don't remember how to, and keeping you calm.

I know many of my personal belongings have been broken, lost, or thrown away over the years because you either forgot it was important or in spurt of rage didn't care.

I know conditions have always been bad — unfortunately — because of bad decisions you have made.

I know there is a lot of tension in our family partially because of you.

I know much of this is not your fault.

I know there is no cure for Alzheimer's, and I know that I might suffer from this too one day.

I know you are my dad and I still love you.