2 days ago
I found love again in my husband's dementia care home
At the end of the meal, John asked 'can I email you?' – and from then on we wrote to each other frequently. I'd tell him I'd seen Bonnie that day, and that I'd taken her for a coffee when I visited James. Bonnie soon became very comfortable in my company, even seeking me out when I came to visit James. We actually looked similar – care home staff thought we were sisters! In fact, when at times Bonnie would refuse personal care from the carers, she'd allow me to do it instead. Meanwhile John came to know James, attracted by the sound of Mozart operas coming from his room. John, I discovered, was as passionate about Beethoven as James was about Mozart. In different times they would have been good friends.
Although I knew my relationship with John was changing, as we got to know each other, this was accompanied by a lot of guilt. It also felt surreal being with Bonnie while growing close to her husband. I think the care home manager understood what was happening. 'You must build a new life,' she urged.
As our relationship continued, we went out to dinner, the opera, theatre and concerts, as James and I had done – and as John had done with Bonnie. We went on holiday to Greece together, but things didn't go as well as planned. There were four people in the relationship and the guilt remained. How could we truly let go and enjoy ourselves while James and Bonnie were unable to communicate with us on any level?
One of the hardest things about Pick's disease is that it is impossible to predict its progress. I was told by the consultant that James could live for anything between one year and 10. In fact he lived for 11 more years, finally succumbing in 2014 aged 68. Six months later Bonnie passed away aged 73. It was a raw time for John and for me, finally losing the great loves of our lives.
I returned James's ashes to Northern Ireland where he was born. But some I held back and joined them with Bonnie's in a park in London, a city they both loved. After all, they had lived next door to each other for four years, and all four of us had been on this journey together.
This month, I'll be wearing my Alzheimer's Society Forget Me Not Appeal badge for the four of us, as well as the thousands of people whose lives have been affected by dementia.
After all the years of heartbreak, I'm pleased to say there is a happy ending. John and I married in a small London ceremony in 2016, after he'd proposed on a flight to India – picking the seventh day of the seventh month because he knows it's my lucky number. Our experience taught us just how cruel and unpredictable life can be, and if there's a chance of happiness in sight, grab it with both hands.
