My mother’s presence is like the signal from a faraway radio station on a cold winter night. Sometimes it’s so faint that you have to know where to look for it, jiggle the dial, bend the antenna; other times the atmosphere is just right, and she’s there–loud and clear. I spoke privately with her nurse-practioner about the difficulties we’re having in convincing her to have new people come into the house, something that will happen more and more as she needs more care. The nurse said that this can be the hardest time because my mother is still able to recognize her own impairment. She still remembers the time when she didn’t have to work so hard just to attach a name to someone.