She kissed him goodbye, knowing he wouldn't remember her tomorrow. But she would remember, for both of them. The care home was bright, filled with caring and compassionate members of staff speaking to their patients. Ones that were completely fine, the next, completely traumatised. Family members visited and held each other's hands as they watched the one they cared about struggle to find the fight to recognise them and lose completely. The faint smell of antiseptic radiates from the home, with the air freshener trying to pump out Lavender. That was the same as my old Ethan's case. He had been diagnosed with Dementia a few years ago. It started small. Like reminding him that he misplaced his car keys, forgetting why he walked into a room. He started to forget the conversation that we had the day before about which garden centre we were heading to meet with our friends. I could see the confusion in his eyes, the frustration at himself and the punishing words he would mutter to himself when I left the room. "stupid ethan. stupid." My heart would break in two. So we decided to go and get him diagnosed. A few weeks later, it was confirmed. My Ethan had Dementia. The thought of losing him to himself was more terrifying. I had to watch my lover, my best friend, fall in front of me, and I couldn't just watch. So I fell with him. I sat with him. I cried with him. I empathised with him. I went to the pharmacy and got his medication. I sat there when he got frustrated and tried so hard to beat a battle he was never going to win. So, here we are. Sat in the gardens of the care home with the rose bushes behind us, the birds chirping to each other as they sit on the branches, the sun shining warmly on Ethan's face as he smiled at the sun, closing his eyes. I sat there too, holding his hand as we spent the rest of the afternoon talking about the funny times we shared, how we met, our first date, the birth of our daughter, the fights that we found pointless now but too stubborn at the time and too young to understand. He just nods, listening as if it were someone else who lived that life. The sun started to set as I was about to get up I kissed his frail cheek that was warmed by the sun. "Do I know you?" Ethan said, confused. "You do. You love me." I could see his carer approaching as she helped him to his feet, taking his arm softly as she tilted her head towards me, almost as a quiet gratitude. I can imagine that poor girl must see some truly saddening sights. I walked back to my car as I headed home. I could still hear him humming a tune that we used to sing to our little girl when she had a nightmare as he walked away. The next day, I came back to visit him. Bringing him a photo of him, me and our beautiful daughter. Thankfully, she inherited his looks and my personality. He saw me and looked at me with the same confusing stare. "You look familiar," Ethan says as he watches me put the photo on his bedside table as I sit in the chair next to the bed. "I think I dreamed of you." He added, somehow, that small comment managed to well up my old eyes that were filled with lifetimes that I shared with the man I didn't recognise in front of me. He looked like my husband, had his voice. But he was letting go now. "Hello, Ethan. I'm Hope. I dreamed of you, too." I whispered before kissing his forehead as he let out a soft whimper. Sleep well, Ethan. Your Hope loves you. Even in dreams.

Goodbye, My Love.

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The Last Kiss Before Forgetting

Chloe.

Chloe.

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Goodbye, My Love.

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