Oh my goodness, true to form, I have a little tear in my eye. How gorgeous! That truly is love.

I sometimes think of dementia as akin to Swiss cheese, you know, the cheese with holes? The holes are the wasted part of the brain, the cheese still the healthy part, and one day someone asks a question differently and the patient remembers.

At least that's how it seemed to be for my dad. He once described me as: She's got something to do with Alistair. Alistair is my husband.

The next week he introduced me as his daughter.

Another time he just didn't recognize me.

It's all too sad for words, Janet...but over fifty years of love, BEST!