Actually, this may be good news.
My mom, while not a zombie, has dementia
and it’s very hard on all of us.
It ate away my Gramp’s wit and amazing sense of humor. It twisted all his beautiful memories into a mess of paranoia and doubt. It erased so much of his loving kindness I couldn't recognize him anymore. My younger sister described him as a monster walking around in our dearly missed Grandfather's skin.
It was a real nightmare and it nearly destroyed my Mother.
Even when we turned to the church for a little extra strength we found people judging everything we did. We asked church members to stop in to visit with us but instead of support, we got reprimanded! According to the preacher and other visitors, removing matches knives and guns, disconnecting the stove, putting locks and motion sensors on the doors, and giving Gramps medication that kept him slightly groggy, was paramount to torture. But they never saw him wake in the middle of the night confused and violent.
By the time he died I hated him. And it took many many months to let all of that anger go. But one night I dreamt that I heard him coming down the hallway to the bedrooms. The hallway light was on but it was still dark and I was scared. But when he got to me and I saw his face in the light I knew it was my old loving super-hero Gramps. There wasn't even a trace of the monster. He hugged me in his strong arms and told me he loved me and sent me to bed. I woke up and cried on the phone with my mom for an hour! I believe God sent me that dream and gave me peace.
Jeeze, sorry this got long and personal! Its just sooo close to home, and my heart goes out to those who are going through it now!