The first thing my father forgot was how he took his tea

Dear Delyara, My father has dementia. People ask when we first noticed. They expect a dramatic story: getting lost, forgetting a name, leaving the cooker on. For me, it was tea. Dad drank tea exactly the same way for fifty years: strong, one sugar, milk last. One morning, I made it and he pushed the cup back, saying I had done it wrong. He wanted no sugar. I laughed because I thought he was being difficult. A week later, he asked for three. Then he forgot he drank tea at all and began asking for coffee, which he had always hated. Such a small thing, but I felt something shift. Tea had been one of the facts of my father, as fixed as his name. Now every visit, I ask what he wants, and he answers differently. Yesterday, he looked at the mug and said, “Who made this?” I said I did. He smiled and said, “My daughter used to make good tea.” I am his daughter. I was sitting opposite him. I took a sip of his cup after he left the table. Three sugars. Far too sweet. I drank the whole thing because it was the version of my father available that morning.