I wear my forget me not as a dedication to my grandad. He was the most honest, loving and caring man, absolutely obsessed with my daughter and our adventures he always wanted to know where we were and what we were doing so now he can come along with us and watch from above. I’m grateful that his dementia didn’t affect his ability to know who we were and that we could keep those very fond memory’s right till the end, for him it was more places and disorientation but that only made our adventures more interesting. We shall love and miss you forever grandad xxx

Our wonderful mum developed Alzheimer’s when she was 80, it got worse quickly during the isolation of lockdown. As devastating as it was, watching her confusion grow, and her fear, we were lucky, as she didn’t forget who we were and she never lost the twinkle in her eye or her laugh. Support is so crucial during this frightening and emotional time.

My mum was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s at 68, and coming to terms with that diagnosis was one of the hardest things I have ever faced. At just 40, I suddenly found myself becoming a carer for the most important person in my life. Some days are good, and some days are incredibly hard. There are days when the tears come without warning, and others when her smile feels like a gift that stays a little longer.

My heart struggled to catch up with what my eyes were seeing. Watching someone you love change in front of you is painful in ways words can barely describe. But when I look at my beautiful mum, I see someone who still needs me there — to smile, to care, to reassure her, and to be her voice when she cannot find her own.

Dementia is a cruel disease. It slowly takes pieces of the person you love, but I have learned something important: it cannot take away the love between us. That love is still there every day, in my mum’s eyes and in her smile. That connection remains, even in the quiet moments.

I want others to know that although this illness is extremely hard to accept, the person you love is still there, even when it feels like they are slipping away. When we focus on the moments we still have, we begin to see more of them and hold onto them more tightly.

Don’t let Alzheimer’s steal those moments — it has already taken enough.

Sending love and strength to all carers and families out there. You are not alone on this journey. 💜

My brother John Morley at 80 years old is suffering with Alzeimers and after being a very successful business man in Management training and in his spare time bred race horses.
In his younger years he was a football referee playing at Wembley and various countries like Japan and Russia and was very well thought of .
This is a terrible disease that takes everything away from the person leaving a void.im very proud of my brother and happy to help in any way I can .
My love to all carers especially my sister in law Joan who is a very kind loving patient person ❤️ photo of my brother with his frandaughter Kayla (his number 1 fan)

I wear my Forget Me Not badge in memory of my wonderful Granny. She was a Brownie leader, ran a nursery, helped lead worship at her local church, raised two children and loved her four grandchildren (Cornish through and through, we were all boys and maids with a strong and loving accent - and always trying to slip £5 in our pockets for treats).

She was a wonderful person and it was devastating to see dementia take her away from us so quickly - it felt like a total landslide. I hope that by wearing the Forget Me Not badge, even more people will become aware of Alzheimer's Society's work and help beat dementia for good.

I wear my Forget Me Not for my grandad. He was incredibly smart and funny, and he taught me so much—especially about budgeting and spreadsheets. Some of my favourite memories are of the little shed at the bottom of his garden where he used to do all his paperwork. I would sit beside him while he worked, watching carefully and asking questions because I always wanted to learn more from him.
When he was diagnosed with dementia, it was heartbreaking to see that spark for knowledge slowly begin to fade. The man who had always been so sharp and curious started to struggle with things that had once come so easily to him. During this time, he began writing, something he had never really shown an interest in before. I think it was his way of trying to hold on to himself and stay present.
Watching the gradual deterioration was incredibly difficult. He became sad and confused, and it was painful for our family to witness. One of the hardest parts was that he often forgot that his wife, my grandma, had already passed away. He would ask where she was, and every time it broke both my mum’s heart and mine.
When he finally passed away, it was deeply sad, but there was also a sense of peace knowing that he was no longer suffering. I like to think of him reunited with my grandma again. He could make her laugh like no one else.
When I wear my Forget Me Not, it reminds me that we will never forget him, the love he gave us, and the lessons he taught me.

My Mum, Zeta, was 60 when she was diagnosed with Young Onset Vascular Dementia. She was far too young and so was I.
The whole family was scared, and we hadn't got a clue what the future looked like. I know that she was frightened, but she wouldn't talk to us about it, so we gently and respectfully cared for her, loved her and protected her.
We were her comfort at the beginning and her voice towards the end, and it was after she died that we found dozens of slips of paper hidden all over the house with our names and ages and phone numbers on. She had been determined not to forget who we were and where to find us. 15 years after her death, I still reach for the phone just to chat over my day, and somehow I don't think that will ever change.
My Forget Me Not badge is always for her. It's her story of courage, and my story of really, really missing her.