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.