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A familiar expression.
A sense of humour.
A stubborn streak.
A smile.
A reaction that is unmistakably them.
Martin has even joked that Fiona remains “the world’s most stubborn woman”.
Medication, apparently, can still become a battle of wills.
There is something wonderfully human about that detail.
Because for a moment, the disease is not the centre of the story.
Fiona is.
The same personality that her family has known for years can still emerge in everyday moments.
And those moments have become enormously precious.
A photograph that told another side of the story
Martin has also shared glimpses of Fiona enjoying time with her family.
To outsiders, a simple photograph of someone smiling may seem unremarkable.
For families living with dementia, however, ordinary happiness can carry extraordinary meaning.
A good afternoon matters.
A laugh matters.
A moment of recognition matters.
A peaceful walk or family outing matters.
Because life with Alzheimer’s is not necessarily a continuous sequence of sadness.
There can still be humour.
Affection.
Comfort.
Connection.
There can still be moments in which the disease seems temporarily pushed into the background and the person everyone loves comes unmistakably to the foreground.
These moments may not change the diagnosis.
But they change the day.
And sometimes, when the future feels impossible to control, a good day is enough.
The hidden toll on the entire family
Dementia is diagnosed in one person.
Its consequences, however, spread far beyond them.
Martin has spoken about Alzheimer’s as something that affects an entire family.
Fiona and Martin have two sons, who have also had to adjust to watching their mother change.
For children — even adult children — that experience can be extraordinarily difficult.
Parents often represent continuity.
They are the keepers of childhood stories.
They remember first days at school, embarrassing moments, family traditions and tiny details their children themselves may have forgotten.
When a parent begins losing memories, the emotional roles within a family can slowly shift.
Children may find themselves helping to care for the person who once cared for them.
A spouse may become responsible for decisions that were once made together.
Every member of the family has to adapt.
And they may all be grieving something slightly different.
For Martin, there is also the relentless responsibility of being the person closest to Fiona’s day-to-day reality.
Caring does not stop when someone is tired.
It does not respect weekends.
There is no end-of-shift moment when a spouse can simply leave the emotional weight behind.
Love and responsibility exist in the same room, every day.
Speaking publicly about what many families endure privately
Fiona and Martin could have chosen to keep much of this experience behind closed doors.
Instead, they have spoken publicly about the realities of Alzheimer’s.
Their decision has helped bring attention to an experience shared by countless families who rarely see the full complexity of dementia represented publicly.
Their memoir, Remember When: My Life With Alzheimer’s, offers an intimate perspective on Fiona’s diagnosis and Martin’s experience of caring for her.
It is not simply a story about memory loss.