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To my husband, Ian s I sit here now, I can picture your face looking back at me across the kitchen table.

Your brow’s crumpled in confusion, frowning at me like a child.

I’m remembering a time back in the summer of 2016, after your diagnosis, when the capable, self-sufficient man I’d always known began to slip away.

After years of feeling anxious and fearful, you’d been told that you had Lewy body dementia (LBD).

A form of dementia very similar to that which can be associated with Parkinson’s. I’d be your main carer. My once-confident husband becoming a shadow of his former self.

Every evening, I’d sit you in front of the TV while I typed away on my laptop.

Despite the huge responsibility of caring for you, I had to find time to work on my boutique gift shop – Peach Perfect.

And in many ways, the business was my saviour.

It was a much-needed distraction from the heartbreak of watching you grow weaker by the day.

Taking orders, working on my website.

I’d always wanted to be

Amy own boss, you knew that.

And you’d watched me over the years as I tried my hand at everything from a marquee business to a travel company. Some failed, some succeeded. But I always had you by my side, cheering me on.

These days, you weren’t up to helping me package gifts for shipping, your hands trembling.

You were slipping away.

By mid-2017, you often didn’t remember me, or our beloved son Robert.

‘What’s happening to me?’ you’d sob with frustration when I had to gently explain who we were.

So sad for us. But it must’ve been terrifying for you.

Whenever I could,

I threw the energy I had left into my business.

Though it was hard to face, I knew deep down you wouldn’t be around forever.

You’d want me to build something to focus on after you’d gone.

I employed someone to help with my website. Taught myself about Google searches.

And spent hours searching for the right gifts.

Our house was soon filled high with cookbooks, craft sets and garden goods.

And as the years went on, demand soared.

I longed to share my success with you, imagined us clinking glasses of fizz or you whisking me off for a celebratory dinner. Instead, everyday tasks like making a cup of tea, or even lifting a fork to your mouth had become impossible for you.

I resisted it for as long as I could, but in June 2018, you went into a care home. I’d visit you often but, by then, I’m not sure if you knew who I was.

I’d squeeze your hand, tell you my news.

You’d always smile, a twinkle of recognition in your eye.

But then, in March 2019, you passed away at the age of 66. Nothing can ever replace you, my wonderful husband.

I miss you desperately every day.

But I know you’d be incredibly proud of me now. You always were my biggest champion.

I only wish you were still here to see my success for yourself. love,

I’d visit you but I’m not sure if you knew who I was

For more info, see www.peachperfect.co.uk