At Clive Beaumont's funeral this week, the packed congregation in Sunningwell Church raised the roof with the hymn Fight the Good Fight. Clive, a former Army officer and Oxford graduate, was a fighter but he succumbed to pneumonia and died aged just 51.

Clive's fight had been going on for some time. He developed the first symptoms of pre-senile dementia when he was 42.

Last year, Fiona Tarrant spoke to his wife Helen about coping with her husband - who was unable to communicate or recognise his family - and bringing up their two young children alone. Helen, of Bayworth, near Boars Hill, Oxford, refused to accept that people like Clive should be forced to live in nursing homes. She and others formed the Clive Project, a pilot to help younger people with pre-senile dementia. The original aim was to help people in Oxfordshire with one-to-one home support. Now the project is looking at a dedicated respite home.

Here Helen tells her own moving story, emphasising the need for help. Clive may no longer need it, but Helen is proud that his name will live on to help others. Helen writes: "I met Clive in my first year at Oxford. My then boyfriend wanted to try judo and took me along to a class. Clive was the instructor, with sweat dripping off the end of his nose. I was not impressed.

"But we were both from Yorkshire, so we struck up a friendship and agreed to meet up in the vac. Eight months later Clive joined the Army and staged a fond farewell as he expected to be based at Aldershot. However, his first posting was to Abingdon, so the inevitable parting was postponed for a few months. "Two years later we married. It should have been in August, but the Army sent Clive to Belfast, so we had to wait till September 1972. Clive bought me Travel Scrabble as a wedding present.

"For the next 15 years I followed Clive around southern England, with a brief excursion to Germany and a longer one to the Arabian Gulf. On the way we went free-fall parachuting, skiing, orienteering and scuba-diving. "Clive had only one serious flaw as a husband: he never lost his temper. It was impossible to have a good row with Clive - he merely laughed at me. I have always been somewhat volatile, but after a while I grew accustomed to this failing and mostly we rubbed along.

"After 12 or 13 years, Clive started suggesting a family. I don't know if this was the effect of the nephews and nieces that were by now appearing or a presentiment of what was to come, but Clive wanted children of his own.

"I took a lot of persuading: children would mean a major alteration to our life. But he was very persistent, thank goodness.

"So Rachel was born in March 1988, quickly followed by Alan a year later. Clive loved being a father, he doted on his children, he even volunteered to change nappies in the middle of the night. "But one day, as we prepared to go on holiday, he lost his temper. It was 1991.

"He was sacked from a posting he had fought hard for and was enjoying. He stopped reading books. He refused to play new games with the children. He was made redundant and couldn't find another job.

"He went to see our GP about his memory and was eventually diagnosed with frontal lobe dementia.

"There was no help from outside to keep him occupied, so he helped at home. He did the washing and put the wet things away to go mouldy. He did the shopping and bought food no-one would eat. He baby-sat and lost the children. "He never gave up. He was never down-hearted or defeated. This was his life and he made the best of it, quietly and without any fuss.

"He lost his driving licence but cycled everywhere, dressed like a Christmas tree for visibility and safety. He swam every day because "you have to keep fit".

"Clive needed more care than I could give. He went to a nursing home in Dunstable and we visited every week. At first he was happy, but then he wanted to come home.

"After nearly a year, I moved him to Wardington nursing home, near Banbury. We had some magic walks along the canal, watching swallows swoop after insects. Still came the litany: when can I come home? "Wardington couldn't manage him, so he was transferred to Banbury hospital, and then to the Fulbrook Centre in Headington. At last he was very close to home, but he had lost the ability to recognise home or family.

"He forgot how to cycle and how to swim. He could no longer talk at all, but he was still cheerful. He could still sing songs, then snatches of songs and finally nothing.

"He continued down his long, difficult road. Six weeks ago he started to lose a lot of weight. He still liked the spicy foods he had always liked, but found eating difficult. He developed a high temperature and difficulty breathing. He took to his bed and died. "I still can't believe it. Even at the end, Clive had such vitality and endurance. He was the anchor of my life. I don't know how I shall manage without him.

"Towards the end, Clive sang snatches of three songs. One was Only the Lonely, by Roy Orbison, and Clive's world must have been very lonely, even though he was surrounded by people who loved and cared for him.

"Another was Please Release Me, by Tom Jones, which has been very much in my mind for the last month.

"The last was Je Ne Regrette Rien, by Edith Piaf. I think it epitomises the life of Clive Hamilton Beaumont, my husband and a very gallant gentleman."

Story date: Monday 17 May

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