There is another generation quietly observing this chapter of our lives.
Our children see us visiting their grandparents, preparing their meals, helping them walk and responding to their repeated questions. They notice whether we speak with tenderness or irritation. They see whether we protect their grandparents' privacy and include them in family life.
They may not understand dementia fully, but they are learning something important about how human beings should treat one another.
We cannot demand compassion from our children if we consistently demonstrate indifference towards those who once cared for us.
Nor should we use our sacrifices as a weapon, expecting our children to repay every act of kindness we have ever offered them. Care is not a debt that can be calculated. It is a human responsibility shaped by love, circumstances, capacity and mutual understanding.
Still, the example we set matters.
When our children see us treat an ageing parent with patience, they learn that relationships do not lose their importance when one person becomes vulnerable. They learn that people deserve respect beyond their usefulness, their income, their achievements or their ability to remember.
They also learn that caregiving should be shared where possible, rather than placed automatically on one person because of their gender, birth order or family position.
These lessons will remain relevant long after the immediate circumstances have changed.
One day, we too will grow older. We may remain independent and active for many years, or we may need assistance sooner than expected. None of us can predict every turn our lives will take.
What we can do is help create families and communities in which older people are supported without humiliation and caregivers are assisted rather than left to struggle alone.
That is how compassion becomes more than a beautiful word.
It becomes a practice.