The Painter's muse

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He had Alzheimer's. She had paralysis. He used to be a painter. She used to be his muse. On days he can't remember, he wants her to be the assistant to his detective or the vicar to his bishop or the navigator to his rally car driver or his wife. When he remembered, he only wanted to paint her with the brush in his trembling right hand and a cigar in his left . Despite the pangs of guilt her conscience brought, she wanted him to never remember. One day, he told her that it must be their 25th wedding anniversary and took her for a candle light dinner. That night she died, more content than many have ever been in their lives.