My dear OH has been in a care home for eleven months and I visit him almost every day for a couple of hours. I do this because, even though he often doesn't know me, it's the only care I can give him - my one-to-one undivided attention. I have loved him for fifty-three years and want to grab any brief moments of communication, some imagined and some real. He is severely mentally impaired but still fairly mobile - and so young compared with the majority of residents. My family, who live too far away to visit much, encourage me to see him less frequently and to do other things - to make a life without him but I don't have the will to do this. I still meet friends for coffee but I don't enjoy life anymore. The things which gave me pleasure were mostly shared with him and I can't bear to do them without him. I used to make beautiful things but I feel too empty to be creative and I seem to cry an awful lot. When I look in the mirror I see a sad old lady, not the youthful person who was there a few years ago. It feels like one long bereavement. I'm sorry this is so long and so full of self-pity but I just wanted to tell somebody how I feel and I know people on TP will understand.