I wonder how much time he has left

I wonder how much time he has left.
It is a sad day today.
Some days seem sadder than most.
I have just spent some time 'researching' funerals.
Bloody internet!
The results of my search are somewhat alarming.
It appears that where we live doesn't exist. ( According to various funeral web sites).
So, if where we live doesn't exist, where does that leave us?
You tell me, because I am buggered if I know.
Dig is deteriorating fast, hence the funeral research.
It's a cloudy day and he is propped up in his chair, watching the 'Karate Kid' on his DVD player. He loved movies when he was well.
Soft bread and vegemite for breakfast. Every time I walk past I put a piece in his mouth and tell him to chew. (He has forgotten where his mouth is and how to chew).
I am so sad and feel I am watching him die, but, as overwhelming as this is I must remember I am also watching him live. Watching him breath and watching him fight.
He used to say 'If you can't be good, be good at it'.
Maybe, he is being good at surviving.
It is just dementia