Watching Someone You Love Disappear, While They’re Still Here
Wednesday 26th Aug
I don't think you can truly understand what dementia does to a family until you watch it happening to people you love.
For me, the hardest part has been watching my partner struggle with seeing her mum like this.
Her mum is still here, but so much of the person they all knew and loved is slowly being taken away. The conversations, the memories, the little moments that families take for granted — they become harder, and sometimes impossible.
And then there is her mum's partner.
He has been her full-time carer, day in and day out, without the rest or respite that anyone would need. Watching someone you love decline in front of you while trying to care for them every single day must be something that is almost impossible to put into words.
Then there are the children and grandchildren.
They've had to watch their mum, nan and loved one change. The person who was once at the centre of family gatherings, someone they could laugh with, talk to and make memories with, is no longer able to enjoy those moments in the same way.
And that's one of the cruelest things about dementia.
It doesn't just take memories from the person living with it. It takes pieces of family life too.
Birthdays, Christmases, days out, conversations, jokes, photographs and those completely ordinary moments that you never realise are precious until they're gone. Families continue making memories, but there is an awful sadness when the person you want to share them with can no longer experience them in the same way.
Right now, she is in hospital.
And perhaps the hardest thing for all of us is not knowing how long we have left with her.
There is no certainty. No knowing exactly what tomorrow will bring. Just the reality that time is something we can no longer take for granted.
Watching my partner go through this has made me realise just how devastating dementia really is. I see the strength she has, but I also see the heartbreak. I see someone trying to hold onto the memories she has with her mum while facing the reality that there may come a time when her mum doesn't know who she is.
I can't fix that.
I can't give them back the years that dementia has taken.
But I can do something.
That's why, in September, I'm taking on a 30-mile challenge to raise money for dementia and Alzheimer's.
Thirty miles might seem small compared with what families affected by this disease go through, but if it helps raise awareness, supports people living with dementia and their families, or contributes towards research that could give future families more time together, then every step will be worth it.
This isn't just a fundraising challenge for me anymore.
It's personal.
It's for my partner.
It's for her mum.
It's for the person who has cared for her every single day.
It's for the children and grandchildren who are watching someone they love change.
And it's for every family sitting beside a hospital bed, wondering how much time they have left.
Dementia doesn't just affect one person. It affects everyone who loves them.
So I'll walk those 30 miles, and I'll think about them with every step. ❤️
If you can support the fundraiser, thank you. If you can't, sharing this and helping raise awareness means just as much.
30 miles in September. For the people we love, the memories we cherish, and the families living through dementia. 🧠❤️
Share
Good luck with the fund raise for an excellent cause. Hulimar & Hitesh