This is that 'no man's land' which is made all the harder when you are subject to the uncertainty, the vulnerability manifest in the frailty and aspect of a loved one who has lived with and borne a dementia for so long a time. And you know that there is nothing that you can do to change any of it. All the tears and heartache are not something which dementia acknowledges nor cares about and however loud that scream of anguish, it will still fall on deaf ears. And so you let that dementia be. For it is as alien as a distant unknown star and whilst it plays havoc within the mind of a loved one and sets its own agenda in terms of 'behaviour', in presentation and in determining an eventual outcome, it is NOT the loved one whom it inhabits. It cannot be. So if one can possibly not give that dementia any credence by way of anguish, anger or despair, instead focus entirely on the actual living person, the loved one, and see the 'beauty' of that loved one for what they truly are, however compromised by this disease, then you might then discover just how powerful such a realisation can be.
It is not that one accepts what dementia has done, nor do you deny it. But to fight something alien with something known - emotion, anger, anxiety, hope, expectation and so on - sucks the very life spirit out of you, whilst having no effect whatsoever on the progress of a disease which always wins and cares nothing for you nor your welfare.
The greater thing , by far, is in bringing one's humanity to bear upon the reality which is there before you. A mother whom one has known from one's childhood, long before that alien intruder came into her life. The laughter and the tears which will have been shed during that life, all the colour and adventure of a life, the 'friendship' which is precious in any parent and the whole of life's pattern which is unique to everyone - all of this and so much more, which is a life lived and which can never ever be undone, now laying before you, in this present moment, inanimate, frail, perhaps in sleep. But still that very person in essence, remains there with you. It is that 'something' which cannot be held, shown, nor captured and it is very very special. And it is removed from the dementia entirely. And when I took hold of my own mother's hand and held it until she gave out her final breath, that 'something' was there. Her dementia was dead and gone, but in the holding of her hand, the real person lived on, in the heart's mind and above all, in the love - which is within each and every one of us - for ever.