Bless you all - sending loads of care and strength to everyone who has a loved one on this position - be kind to yourselves - keep reminding yourselves there is no right answer, so it's fine to get things wrong sometimes and that doesn't really matter - it's the illness that is at fault, not you!
Reading your experiences is making me realise how very lucky we were to be able to keep dad at home - I absolutely could not have done this without quitting my job and losing my house, if mom hadn't been alive ... It gave us so much time with him and we were so lucky to have that.
And the most important advice I can give is to spend all the time you can with them (but not to the detriment of your own mental health, of course - your loved ones would not want that!). But when you can, just sit with them, be with them, talk with them (or to them, if they are no longer verbal). Hold their hands, read to them, whatever they enjoy.... I spent many happy hours folding up kitchen roll as "handkerchieves" for my dad, as for some strange reason he was obsessed with handkerchieves - absolutely loved them - they seemed to make him so happy. When he finally passed and we cleared out his stuff we found hankies everywhere - my daughter and I actually embroidered his initials onto some proper linen ones and put them with him when we visited him in the chapel of rest....
This is just a silly example - what I am trying to say is, when you let go of the idea of keeping them alive at any cost, it actually gives time and head space to enjoy the time together that still can be enjoyed.
And you may find some golden moments. My dad had an unusual burst of lucidity on the final evening of his last hospital stay (about three weeks before he finally passed, it turned out) and we had the most amazing conversation, when he told me how much he loved and admired my brother and mom, and then told me to "never change". It was beautiful.
Nobody would choose dementia over a quick death, but the one gift it does give is time, to say all the things you wanted to say, and show all the love you can.
It's sparse consolation, but it's not nothing. Xxx