No more than a week after my brother-in-law Gary died after his six-year decline from early-onset dementia (and I wrote about his son Sam creating a Web site for loved ones of dementia sufferers), I read a similarly heartbreaking dementia story in O Magazine.

I found notable similarities in the story of dementia sufferer Lynn Forbish (pictured) and my brother-in-law. Forbish was a little older than the 57-year-old Gary — early 60s at the onset of her illness. She was diagnosed with the same form of dementia, called Lewy body, that Gary was thought to have.

I am not sure how much awareness Gary had of what was happening to him. But Forbish knew. “I have dementia, in case you didn’t know!”, she announced to the author of the O story, Beth Macy. In my view, if there is anything worse than losing your cognitive abilities, it’s knowing you are losing your cognition and knowing you can do nothing to stop the loss. In fact, it’s a fate I fear more than heart disease or even cancer.

I am one of those people who is inordinately afraid of death. Forbish found one bright spot in her condition — if your mind goes, you no longer worry about dying. There is that.

Here’s a small bit of Forbish’s story:

Lynn is in the early stages of Lewy body dementia, a degenerative brain disease that shares traits with Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s. She didn’t realize how confused she’d become until our newspaper, The Roanoke Times, switched computer systems the year prior and she kept botching the most basic functions. I later learn that a coworker once summoned the elevator to our third-floor newsroom, only to find Lynn standing inside, confused. She hadn’t known which button to push.