For more than two years Sherrill Miller followed her own advice. "Avoid two life changing events in the same year."

Then came one she could not avoid. Now, two years later, the other is on the horizon. E.B. Foote winery is for sale.

Rich Higginbotham, Sherrill's husband, passed away in Sept. 2008. She and Rich had built the winery up from a languished brand in 1991 to a respectably good-selling one in those 19 years.

"Wine making is a physical business," Sherrill explained. There are trucks to drive, casks to move, cases to stack.

It was a business in which she and Rich shared duties. Each had a specific set of tasks. Each brought skills. She was the outside face, he the inside man with the quiet reserve. Things got done, wine got sold. Life went on until Rich got sick.

In 1991 Rich was managing food services for King County jail. Sherrill was teaching at North Hill Elementary. They sometimes joked about owning a business when they retired. Then one day they visited Gene Foote at his winery in South Park.

Gene was a good guy who worked for Boeing and made wine in his spare time. He'd lost the passion, he told them. The brand

was 13 years old and was for sale.

Sherrill and Rich decided to buy the winery. They liked wine, understood what they liked but had never actually made wine. "Wine making is easy," Gene said. "Good wine making, that is another thing," he advised.

For eight years Rich and Sherrill toiled in South Park making a go of it.

1999 became a pivotal year. Rich spied a classified ad in the Highline Times; "Space for rent". They scoped out this former contractor's office and warehouse in Burien, deciding it had the requirements. Below grade, ground floor, plenty of room for casks and wine making equipment and a sales office. Rich retired from the county in 2001. Sherrill quit teaching in 2002 to join him in the "family biz".

The brand began to move. Sherrill met many people. She is a community-minded person. She is likable. With Rich working the trucks, moving the casks, driving to eastern Washington during "crush" and Sherrill back home minding the store, all was well.

Those first three years were important. The brand was established. Business was growing. But Rich was becoming ill.

"I was in denial, I think," Sherrill admitted.

She'd accepted those moments. "I didn't see it or didn't want to see it. In 2003 I noticed Rich forgetting little things. Things we accept in our lives but usually overlook," she said.

The day Rich got lost in Prosser with the big truck was when Sherrill knew she had to do something. Rich was overdue.

"I called him on the cell phone. He'd forgotten how to dial but knew how to answer. He could not even tell us where he was."

She didn't panic. She knew her brother Daryl was in town. Together they triangulated Rich's location and found him. Next stop. Doctor Jacqueline Tran at Highline Hospital.

Dr. Tran's initial diagnosis was not good. At 56 Rich was in the early stages of Alzheimer's disease. Named for German physician Alois Alzheimer, who pioneered studies

of this most common form of dementia in 1906. Aricept, a well-tested drug, was prescribed. It worked. Rich became his old self...sort of. Aricept affects people

differently. Some get angry, some get anxious, some get lethargic. Rich got quiet. Sherrill felt he was back to the level she was originally in denial about. The

forgetful little things but that was great. At least Rich had his memory back.

Not 10 months later Rich had trouble communicating. "He'd say something to me. It was garbled; but not to him.” Sherrill asked him to repeat it. Still garbled, maybe a recognizable word but little else. It was one-way communication. Rich knew what he was saying. No one else did. The medicine had stopped working.

Rich's brain was shutting down. Sherrill had been warned. It wasn't easy seeing the man you married, worked with side-by-side for so many years begin reverting to stages of helplessness each week, each month.

By 2005 Rich was failing faster. He did not recognize Sherrill or if he did it was only that she was an important person in his life. He was tested. "Count backwards from 100,” the doctor would instruct. Rich got to 95 and forgot the rest. Dr. Tran tested more. Three easy things to recall each week. Rich would get two but never three. Then, eventually none.

Early on Rich knew he was sick. He asked Sherrill not to tell anyone. He did not want to be treated differently by guests at the wine shop. Rich was content to pour wine, smile, laugh and enjoy the atmosphere that was part of their life as winery owners.

Over time, with Rich fading, Sherrill felt it was time to let her friends and co-workers know why Rich was not able to communicate at all. Legally Sherrill knew she needed to protect Rich and herself. They had wills and a physician activated durable power-of-attorney. Dr. Tran officially declared Rich unable to speak for himself. Sherrill would be his guardian.

She’d take him to familiar places for lunch in hopes he’d be comfortable recognizing his surroundings,even a little bit. She gave him choices, not so he could exercise his free will but more because he seemed to understand the aspect of choice with a yes answer better than a command to act. When that happened, Rich always said no.

Sherrill’s training with special-ed kids now seemed essential. She ran the business and took care of Rich.

For more than a year Sherrill helped bathe him, helped him brush his teeth. Many times Rich would get up in the middle of the night. He could not find his way back to bed.

She learned about “sundowning” where Alzheimer’s patients have no concept of time. We all get hungry. Rich didn’t. He ate when Sherrill ate. If not for that he might not eat at all. Alzheimer’s patients often starve themselves this way. Sherrill knew of patients who remained unable to care for themselves for years. She needed help. Rich seemed to be getting more dependent.

Rich’s best day

May 2008. Sherrill had placed Rich in an Adult Family Home on North Hill in Des Moines. In July his sister came for a visit. Rich was remarkably alert. He recognized her. They visited. Rich was able to speak with enough clarity that his sister understood. It was a good day.

Pneumonia is a terrible consequence of Alzheimer’s. Rich developed this “drowning disease” in August. He was treated with antibiotics. He improved. It came back worse. Sherrill felt he’d suffered enough.

Rich succumbed Sept. 15, 2008. He was 61. The emotional roller coaster of Sherrill’s own life was at end. “A relief”, she said. “His pain, his brain not functioning, I had to let him go."

Sherrill had become familiar with Alzheimer’s research at the state level. She attended an auction shortly after Rich’s death. She created a wine, naming it “Remembrance” in honor of Rich. She told the association she would donate matching funds on sales of the wine towards research for a cure. The auction was a tremendous success, generating $98,000. True to her word Sherrill donates a portion of every sale of "Remembrance" to the association. To date she's more than halfway there at $58,000. If she sells the business before she gets there, she'll donate the remainder out of proceeds of the sale.

She could use a partner but her heart tells her working with anyone but Rich would be too hard emotionally. She’s looking at the horizon.

She wants to sell the winery to spend time with her family, to get more involved with community. It’s been two years. It’s time for another life changing event. A sale.