rhetorical cardboard

I was struck on the weekend by the image of my grandfather's loneliness, brought about by my grandmother living in a nursing home because of dementia. She's not at home anymore, physically or mentally. How could he hold up under that... with going to see her every day; seeing her make so little sense and forgetting her grandchildren and talking about people who died years ago as though they were still alive and being unable to function properly after being so sharp for so long, then going home to a house that is empty for the first time in more than fifty years? And why, oh why, do I want to be in his shoes?