Dementia doesn’t announce itself with big, dramatic changes — it shows up in the quiet, everyday moments. A missed breakfast on the counter, the wrong garbage can at the curb, a question left unanswered. These small shifts are constant reminders of the progression, but also of the love that endures. Being a care partner means carrying the weight of it all while choosing grace, humor, and dignity in the midst of change.

One of the things I hold onto most as a care partner is laughter. It shows up in the everyday moments even when assembling furniture with 68 cam locks. Doug was right beside me, handing me tools, sometimes the right ones, sometimes my allen wrench ratchet for the tenth time. At one point he even asked for a vehicle so he could drive it up and down the road. We laughed together, and for a moment, the heaviness of dementia lifted. These small pockets of humor are gifts, reminders that love and joy live right alongside the challenges.

Moving is stressful for anyone add dementia into the mix, and the impact is immediate and profound. For Doug, even simple directions became overwhelming; for me, patience became my lifeline. This move reminded me why understanding the stage of the disease matters so much: it helps me respond with compassion instead of frustration. In the end, it wasn’t just about changing homes it was about protecting peace of mind for both of us.

Caregiving often shows up in the smallest, most unexpected ways. For years, apples with honey were part of Doug’s morning routine a simple comfort we both counted on. But now, some days he likes them, other days he insists he never has. It’s a reminder that with dementia, even the familiar shifts. I’m learning that letting go of the need to correct and instead meeting him where he is lightens the load, even if only a little. Sometimes it’s the little things like apples that reveal just how big this journey really is.

This belated tribute is for Vietnam War Veterans including my husband, Doug, who served with courage and quiet strength. Many carried their battles home in silence, with little recognition and lasting health impacts that are only now being fully understood. From PTSD to Agent Orange exposure and the heightened risk of dementia, their sacrifices extend far beyond the battlefield. Today and always, I honor their resilience, their service, and the unseen weight they continue to bear.