Diggers Wife

Digger's wife.
It seems I have always been Digger's wife.
Since we were married nearly 20 years ago, it has always been 'oh, you're married to Digger' or 'so, you're Digger's wife.
I put this down to my face. I have a generic face. You know a face that can be likened to the black and gold brand in the supermarket.
People will say 'I'm sure I've met you somewhere'.
When they haven't, it's just my generic face.
I don't mind being known as Digger's wife, I quite like it.
Now, Digger is a fine man.
The love of my life.
We have worked together and played together, for all of our lives together.
He is now dying and I am nursing him.
He is in the late stages of FTD, front temporal dementia. Diagnosis was nearly 2 years ago and in that time he has gone from a fully functioning man to a bloke that is totally dependent on me.
My world is made up of small stories that come from small happenings in our day.
Like the time I was running an extension lead and I asked Dig to get the end of the lead for me. He came to me with the end of the lead in one hand and the knife which he had used to cut the end off in the other.
Or the time I was mowing the lawn and Dig took a wheelbarrow full of lawn clippings around to our neighbour's yard and dumped it on their front lawn.
This could be seen as high jinks but, it is just dementia.