I can still see my mom’s strut as she maneuvered around memory care tethered to her shiny blue walker with its floral satchel affixed to the front. When she was happy, that girl of ours would sashay down those halls in a way that said, I’ve still got it, leaving all who witnessed her chuckling with delight as that bony butt of hers shook its way to the dining room.

It struck me then that, even five years into her Alzheimer’s journey, she still found a way to shine despite her advancing through a disease that diminishes people until they are dull. And beyond.

It was as if Mom was determined to prove her own self wrong the way she continued to charm a room. After all, she’s the one who once said to me, “The older you get, Shana, the more invisible you become.”