The last time I visited my Nana in her assisted living home, where she had been for several years, slowly succumbing to Alzheimer’s. My brother, trying to reach her through the fog asked her if she recognized us. She stared long and hard at us, clutching our hands and said, “You’re mens, mens mens…” it may be a bit of a projection, but we chose to interpret it as a final, lucid connection – that she recognized us and that we were all grown up now.