My father-in-law, or OD (Other Dad) as he would often sign off on his emails to me, has always been a walker, at least for the 24 years I’ve known him. Every time we visited my in-laws, he would lead us on walks around their neighborhood while he pushed his grandsons in a stroller, held their toddler hands, or hurried to keep up with their ever-growing feet. There was a lovely paved path through the trees that we would go walking together and explore with him and our boys, identifying different species of trees and plants, admiring the wildlife, and just chatting. It was a great way to get my energetic boys out of the house, and a chance for my father-in-law to get to know his grandsons.

Years later, my in-laws have now moved to a retirement community, and though the surroundings have changed, walking together is still a big part of our time with my father-in-law. But now, our time together is no longer about him getting to know his grandsons, it’s a chance for us to connect with him in a new way. You see, my father-in-law has dementia, and has gotten to the point where he doesn’t fully know who we are. I do believe he knows we are special to him—his long hugs are proof of that—but that may be as far as his recognition goes.

But there’s something that happens when we walk together. His mind opens up and he talks freely. His mood improves. And there is an astounding sense of connection. I remember one walk, in particular, where we started out on what seemed to be a fairly typical stroll through the wooded paths next to their building. He showed us around, kept tabs on our boys, and set the pace for a walk that would accommodate everyone. During this walk, however, something was different.

I could tell something was on his mind, so as we walked, we started asking him questions. We went beyond the normal chit-chat and inquired about how he was feeling. He has always been very much aware of his declining memory, and often chuckled when he couldn’t come up with an answer saying “I know I should know that, but I just can’t remember.” His good spirits and attitude were always at the forefront, and he learned to, as they say, go-with-the-flow. 

Our conversation this time led him to share with us his frustrations. He honestly expressed to us how he was feeling, and why he was feeling that way. It was nothing we, nor his caregivers, had heard from him before, and I fully attribute getting outside and walking with him helped him communicate more clearly, and gave him the feeling of safety to be able to do so. That conversation led to more open communication, more transparency, and more honesty.

There are many benefits of walking, but the connection it can build is undeniable. I may not be able to converse with my “OD” as I had when I first joined his family, but walking together will always be a part of our bond. It will be an activity my husband, boys and I can continue to do with him, as long as his legs have the ability to wander. We’ll likely switch roles and lead him along the way, pointing out and naming the wildflowers coloring our path, but no matter who takes that front spot, that connection will always be something that belongs to us. Together.