Dementia Support Line
I'm doing the memory walk in memory of my dad.
Dad...
I'm swimming in celebration of my lovely mum, Iris. ...
Every year me and my dad would do Alzheimer’s memory walk, my nan and grandad had dementia it was an awful journey. We never wanted another family to go through...
Every year me and my dad would do Alzheimer’s...
I am running my first ever 5km for my nan who we...
We first noticed changes in Mam in her early...
On June 14th Matt, Ed, Sean, Joe, Ian, Donna, Janet...
I’m walking The Birmingham Memory Walk in honour of...
I am walking in memory of my dear Dad who had Alzheimers Dementia and for myself as I have it now too x
In April, I lost my mum to Alzheimer’s.
It’s a cruel and unrelenting disease — one that slowly erodes memory, identity, and eventually, the ability to...
Dad passed away with dementia in 2022. He grew up in...
I work as a nurse with people and families who have a...
I'm doing the memory walk in memory of my dad.
Dad passed away on 4th May 2025 after a short battle with Alzheimers and vascular dementia. I have worked in dementia care for thirty years.
One of myfavourite memories of my dad was when he posed with my wedding bouquet in his hand whilst I got out of the camper van. My dad was larger than life and is very dearly missed .
Dad passed away on 4th May 2025 after a short battle with Alzheimers and vascular dementia. I have worked in dementia care for thirty years.
One of myfavourite memories of my dad was when he posed with my wedding bouquet in his hand whilst I got out of the camper van. My dad was larger than life and is very dearly missed .
Joanne
I'm swimming in celebration of my lovely mum, Iris. She taught me to swim at a very young age and it was something we continued to share throughout her life. I miss my mum every day, but I have so many wonderful memories, even through her battle with mixed dementia and Alzheimers. Life is for celebrating!
Kim
Every year me and my dad would do Alzheimer’s memory walk, my nan and grandad had dementia it was an awful journey. We never wanted another family to go through that. Then sadly my dad got diagnosed with vascular dementia 2017 he started to deteriorate quickly then sadly 24,06,2024 my dad gained he’s angel wings. I am raising awareness and doing my own memory walk 2025 in memory of my dad, Nan, grandad and all the lovely residents and clients I have had the pleasure of taking care of in my career this is for our future. I miss my dad so much but I continue my memory walks in he’s memory because I know he wouldn’t want me to stop.
Helen
Every year me and my dad would do Alzheimer’s memory walk, my nan and grandad had dementia it was an awful journey. We never wanted another family to go through that. Then sadly my dad got diagnosed with vascular dementia 2017 he started to deteriorate quickly then sadly 24,06,2024 my dad gained he’s angel wings. I am raising awareness and doing my own memory walk 2025 in memory of my dad, Nan, grandad and all the lovely residents and clients I have had the pleasure of taking care of in my career this is for our future. I miss my dad so much but I continue my memory walks in he’s memory because I know he wouldn’t want me to stop.
Helen
I am running my first ever 5km for my nan who we sadly lost earlier this year after a long decline. She was an inspiration.
Sarah
We first noticed changes in Mam in her early 40s—she struggled to tell the time and seemed distant. Dad encouraged her to get a job to feel engaged again, however she couldn’t make it work.
For years, we begged the doctor to check on her, but they said there was nothing they could do unless mam went to see them. Eventually, during a routine appointment, she became angry at the doctor, and they finally saw something was wrong as her behavior was so out of character. Mam was diagnosed with dementia at 45.
As her condition worsened, she struggled to communicate, relying on Dad to make her decisions and speak on her behalf. Very soon she only managed a few sentences, one being, “Ben, Lilly, Heidi, Harry, Donnas got a baby” the names of her youngest daughter and the grandchildren she had at the time.
Over time, we saw Mam fade—from a strong, fun lady, to a cute, vulnerable darling. I loved watching as she’d place a hand on my dad’s shoulder and follow him around the house. That was her Kevin, her husband, and her safe space. She never lost her love as a mother, from helping us correct our clothing to holding her latest grandbabies.
In April 2021, Dad called to say she had been taken to hospital. After a week she was discharged still very poorly. I'm so glad we had lots of cuddles that weekend. As that night at 4:48 am, I got THAT phone call—Mam had passed peacefully in Dad’s arms. She was just 60. I’ll never forget arriving back at my parents home, seeing her beautiful face, but knowing I would never hold her in my arms, hear her voice, hold her hand, or look into those big blue eyes of hers ever again.
For years, we begged the doctor to check on her, but they said there was nothing they could do unless mam went to see them. Eventually, during a routine appointment, she became angry at the doctor, and they finally saw something was wrong as her behavior was so out of character. Mam was diagnosed with dementia at 45.
As her condition worsened, she struggled to communicate, relying on Dad to make her decisions and speak on her behalf. Very soon she only managed a few sentences, one being, “Ben, Lilly, Heidi, Harry, Donnas got a baby” the names of her youngest daughter and the grandchildren she had at the time.
Over time, we saw Mam fade—from a strong, fun lady, to a cute, vulnerable darling. I loved watching as she’d place a hand on my dad’s shoulder and follow him around the house. That was her Kevin, her husband, and her safe space. She never lost her love as a mother, from helping us correct our clothing to holding her latest grandbabies.
In April 2021, Dad called to say she had been taken to hospital. After a week she was discharged still very poorly. I'm so glad we had lots of cuddles that weekend. As that night at 4:48 am, I got THAT phone call—Mam had passed peacefully in Dad’s arms. She was just 60. I’ll never forget arriving back at my parents home, seeing her beautiful face, but knowing I would never hold her in my arms, hear her voice, hold her hand, or look into those big blue eyes of hers ever again.
Sarah
On June 14th Matt, Ed, Sean, Joe, Ian, Donna, Janet and Adrian walked 19 miles from our ground at Ryhill to the home of Yorkshire, Headingley. We were raising funds for our club but also supporting the Alzheimer’s Society. Many of our players and members have been affected by dementia in some way. Matt’s grandad suffered with the disease. Ian’s dad Cliff (former player and club umpire) was diagnosed and is now been looked after in a home. One of our players Luke recently lost his dad to the disease. It’s a cause that’s very close to our hearts.
Ryhill Havercroft Cricket Club
I’m walking The Birmingham Memory Walk in honour of my dear husband George. He was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s 3 years ago, and sadly died last year. He was a lovely man, adored by all his family and friends.
Mary
I am walking in memory of my dear Dad who had Alzheimers Dementia and for myself as I have it now too x
Annette
In April, I lost my mum to Alzheimer’s.
It’s a cruel and unrelenting disease — one that slowly erodes memory, identity, and eventually, the ability to communicate or recognise the people you love. Watching that unfold was one of the hardest things I’ve ever experienced.
One of the more devastating effects of Alzheimer’s is something called sundowning. As daylight fades, confusion and anxiety often intensify. For many living with the disease, night-time becomes a source of fear and distress — a period of darkness in more ways than one.
On the weekend of the summer solstice — the longest day of the year — I’ll be taking on the Solstice Sprint: a 1000 km, non-stop ultra-distance bike race. The route starts and finishes in Warwick, taking me through the rolling hills of the Midlands, across the rugged beauty of the South West, and into the wild landscapes of Wales. I’m aiming to complete it in under three days, riding through the night with little or no sleep, chasing the dawn.
It felt fitting.
This ride is about endurance — physical and emotional. It’s my way of honouring my mum’s memory and raising awareness of what so many families go through. As I cycle through the night, I’ll be thinking of all those affected by Alzheimer’s who face a different kind of darkness each evening.
Please consider supporting me. Your donation will help fund vital research and support for people living with Alzheimer’s and their families. Together, we can bring light to the darkest hours.
It’s a cruel and unrelenting disease — one that slowly erodes memory, identity, and eventually, the ability to communicate or recognise the people you love. Watching that unfold was one of the hardest things I’ve ever experienced.
One of the more devastating effects of Alzheimer’s is something called sundowning. As daylight fades, confusion and anxiety often intensify. For many living with the disease, night-time becomes a source of fear and distress — a period of darkness in more ways than one.
On the weekend of the summer solstice — the longest day of the year — I’ll be taking on the Solstice Sprint: a 1000 km, non-stop ultra-distance bike race. The route starts and finishes in Warwick, taking me through the rolling hills of the Midlands, across the rugged beauty of the South West, and into the wild landscapes of Wales. I’m aiming to complete it in under three days, riding through the night with little or no sleep, chasing the dawn.
It felt fitting.
This ride is about endurance — physical and emotional. It’s my way of honouring my mum’s memory and raising awareness of what so many families go through. As I cycle through the night, I’ll be thinking of all those affected by Alzheimer’s who face a different kind of darkness each evening.
Please consider supporting me. Your donation will help fund vital research and support for people living with Alzheimer’s and their families. Together, we can bring light to the darkest hours.
Phil
Dad passed away with dementia in 2022. He grew up in Leeds and the 10k route takes in much of his old stomping ground. Having moved a lot in later life, he started to forget his current address. Instead, he spoke more often than not about his childhood home in Leeds: 29 Norwood Terrace. Leeds was his core memory that never left him. I hope to honour his memory by revisiting some of those places that were so special to him.
Kathryn Judge
I work as a nurse with people and families who have a diagnosis of dementia.
I see the devastating effects it has on families every day.
So for my 50th birthday , June 7th 2025 I have decided with family and freinds to complete the 3 peaks challenge and hope to raise as much h money as I can x
I see the devastating effects it has on families every day.
So for my 50th birthday , June 7th 2025 I have decided with family and freinds to complete the 3 peaks challenge and hope to raise as much h money as I can x
Joanna
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