Danielle Campoamor is a freelance writer.
I first considered moving my family from New York to rural South Dakota after my beloved grandfather — recently diagnosed with Alzheimer’s — broke his hip. He required surgery and physical therapy, all while navigating the unfair, nefarious reality of dementia.
The family member caring for my grandfather in the place he’s called home for 87 years needed a reprieve, so for six nights I slept on a couch and kept watch as the towering man of my youth meandered to the bathroom and back with his walker and argued with his demons. After visiting my grandparents with my two young sons in tow, I decided to move.
