@TwisterSister208 I just wanted to say that I see you, and I’m so sorry you’re going through this. What happened at the festival must have been incredibly painful and confusing, and it makes complete sense that you’re left with questions that don’t have easy answers. Moments like that shake you to your core because they touch the part of you that still remembers who he was, and how your relationship used to feel.
Something that might help, even if only a little, is knowing that what you described is actually very common in dementia. People often “time‑travel” emotionally and attach old memories or feelings to whoever happens to be in front of them. It doesn’t mean he knew her well, or that there was anything between them. It means his brain reached for something familiar and comforting, and she happened to fit the outline of that memory. It’s not a choice he made - it’s the disease pulling him into a different emotional decade.
I also want to acknowledge how the woman at the festival responded. From what you’ve written, she seemed to understand instinctively that he wasn’t flirting or crossing a boundary - he was lost in a memory. Her kindness, her discomfort, and even her tears were all signs that she recognised the moment for what it was. She stepped into it gently, not because she had a special connection with him, but because she had compassion for both of you. That kind of human empathy can be strangely comforting in situations like this.
Dementia doesn’t just take memories; it takes the shared history that relationships are built on. The person you love can suddenly respond to someone else with warmth or recognition that feels misplaced, and it hits you right in the centre of your chest. You’re left watching a version of him that no longer sees you in the way he once did, and that is an enormous grief to carry.
I’ve lived through something similar with a parent, and the grief is enormous. You love the person they were, but the person standing in front of you no longer holds you in the same emotional place. It’s heartbreaking, and it’s lonely, and it’s something most people don’t understand unless they’ve been there.
You’re not imagining things, and you’re not overreacting. You’re dealing with the emotional fallout of a disease that rewrites reality. Please be kind to yourself. What you’re feeling is normal, human, and completely valid.