Doesn't know who I am

Had the same experiences with my DW, now since gone. It was so hard as she no longer reliably knew my name or that I was her husband of 57 years. I will share with you what I learned and what I coached my family. When I thought that I had been lost to her I struggled so much with that pain every time it happened. But, one day, I noticed something about her. She often sat in her recliner seat and had difficulty looking upwards so her head was often tilted slightly down. I got down on my knees, right in front of her and closer to her face and took her hands in mine. I remembered that her hearing had started to weaken so I spoke calmly but loud enough being so close that I knew she could hear. Now she could see my face clearly and I told her I loved her. I then saw a reaction in her face, her eyes looked at me directly and were very focused, she smiled slightly and gripped my hands more firmly. It was then that I knew that she knew me. Maybe not my name or that I was her husband, but she knew me, my voice, my words and she was comforted and safe. My family learned to do the same and found the same reaction giving them comfort that their mother had not forgotten them, she just communicated differently and we had to learn her form of communicating. The conclusion I share is that this disease steals their brain but it does not steal their heart. If you were once in their heart, you will always be, you just have to learn how to see it. If you were ever loved by her, you are "one of hers" and you are safe, loved and trusted, just look differently to see it from her. All the best as you walk this so very difficult path with you loved one. That you stand beside them through this nightmare, care for them, protect them, die a little bit with every bit of their loss, puts you in the esteemed category of a hero.