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Natalie Grove on dementia, caregiving and finding joy in the darkest place

Richard Beck Richard Beck
14 Jul 2025

We invited Natalie Grove, whose play Jello Brain tackles the difficult issues around caring for someone with Alzheimer’s and the specialised provision afforded by Memory Care – a long-term, personalised care plan designed to provide a safe and structured environment that addresses the unique needs of each resident.

There is life and connection and possibility after the onset of dementia, and I want to celebrate it

Early-onset Alzheimer’s is a cruel disease that rips a loved one from your grasp much too soon. In my show, Jello Brain, I want to illuminate what happens beyond the locked doors of Memory Care – this unknown realm that is typically hidden away from American society.

My mom was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s at age 55. Over the previous years, my sister and I, both in our early 20s, had watched the mother we knew unravel and disappear before our very eyes. It’s such a mysterious, insidious illness, because the person’s body is still functioning – it’s just their brain that is shrinking away. An Alzheimer’s brain is much smaller than a healthy one; neuron death causes it to shrink. And with these connections in the brain disappearing, so too does the fabric of the person’s identity.

For several years leading up to my mom’s diagnosis it had been like this – the gradual evaporation of the boisterous, outspoken, creative person she had been in our youth. Her confidence was melting off her, replaced with doubt and shame.

I couldn’t put my finger on what these changes were, especially because she would still do things every once in a while that were so classically her. Then I would brush off my concerns and tell myself I was overreacting. For example, her humour was always such a part of how I interacted with her. I noticed it fading, her becoming more serious. But then, out of the blue, she would burst out laughing like her old self, almost in tears of mirth, and I was comforted that the “old her” was still alive and well. Sadly, this became harder and harder to believe as issues with her speech started to appear and her memory loss became more severe.

There is a huge stigma around moving someone – especially someone so young – into a facility for dementia patients. My mom is at least 20 years younger than the other residents there. But after my sister and I had tried our best to care for her, as the symptoms became more and more pronounced, we couldn’t cope any longer. It seemed like a place with experienced staff and a sense of community was the best option for her.

The care and love my mom receives from the Memory Care unit she has lived in for the past few years has been a pleasant surprise. The staff are so skilled, creative and fun. There’s a real emphasis on palliative care – and joy, humour and connection in each moment.

However, I still find it difficult to convince people to visit her. Friends and family want to visit, but seem hesitant, as if they feel like the disease is contagious. I think it’s fear. Memory Care is confronting – both your own mortality, and the possibility that this could happen to you, is thrust upon you.

For this reason, I’ve felt really isolated in my role as a caregiver at such a young age, and that there wasn’t a true outlet for me. The only thing I could think to do was to write this show and share it. That has been one of the only things that has felt cathartic to me during this experience.

My show includes all the colours of my experience as a young caregiver, expanding what is usually portrayed as exclusively a grim picture. This illness is horrible – I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy – but there is so much more to it than what people fear. There are moments of sublimity and hilarity, and alternate ways of understanding truth and reality. As an actor, I’ve found it to be the ripest ground for improvisation.

I’m so moved and humbled by all the residents and staff in Memory Care, and I want to tell everyone about the details of this illness that no one really wants to imagine – and also the ones that they haven’t yet considered are possible.

There is life and connection and possibility after the onset of dementia, and I want to celebrate it.

Richard Beck

Richard Beck

A graduate in theology and education, Richard acted and contributed to dance, drama and music productions throughout his teaching career. He joined Broadway Baby in 2014 and is now our Editor-in-Chief. He usually disappears to warmer climes for the winter to pursue his passion for travel.

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