It is with a heavy heart that I share that Kimberly went to heaven on July 13.
For years, Kimberly fought a devastating battle with Behavioral Variant Frontotemporal Dementia (bvFTD), a disease that gradually took away so much of the woman I knew and loved. Through it all, I remained by her side, doing everything I could to care for her, protect her dignity, and make her days as comfortable as possible.
Those who followed our journey know how much this disease changed our lives and how difficult it was to find the support that families caring for someone with bvFTD so desperately need. I had hoped for more help along the way—particularly enough caregiving assistance to give Kimberly companionship and stability while allowing me occasional time to rest and recharge. Unfortunately, that level of support never came, and much of her care remained on my shoulders.
Kimberly’s battle is over now. I find comfort in knowing that she is finally free from the disease that took so much from her.
I had envisioned a very different future for us. We were supposed to grow older together, enjoying the retirement years we had worked toward and dreamed about. Instead, our journey became one of caregiving, advocacy, heartbreak, and unconditional love.
But bvFTD does not define Kimberly.
She was my wife, my soul mate, my love, and my friend. She was a whole and vibrant person long before this disease entered our lives, and that is the Kimberly I will carry with me.
To everyone who supported us, donated, reached out, offered encouragement, or simply followed our story: thank you. Your kindness mattered more than you may ever know.
I hope Kimberly’s story will continue to bring awareness to frontotemporal dementia and to the enormous challenges faced by the families and caregivers walking this road. There is still so much work to be done to ensure that no caregiver has to face this devastating disease without the help and support they need.
Sadly, Kimberly went to heaven on July 13, but her story does not end there. I will continue to carry her with me—and I hope her story can help make the road a little easier for those who come after us.
Rest peacefully, my love. Your battle is over.
