Things were getting more difficult with each passing week.  Doris, the personal care worker, proved her worth repeatedly, but, still, the load on all of those caring for Alberta was increasing.  And, somehow, in all her confusion and forgetfulness, she knew it.  She could see the strain showing on those around her. She said as much one morning, as Jenny took her for a walk in the local park.  Her position in the wheelchair was warm enough, covered, as she was, in layers of clothing, a comforter, and a woolen toque.  Seated opposite her, on a cold bench, Jenny talked about anything and nothing – things to keep her mother’s mind engaged with the day. At one point, she blew her warm breath into her chilled palms and then rubbed…