Over the past year and a half, I’ve had the privilege of spending time with a woman living with dementia named Linda.
What started as professional support—meeting with her regularly to help meet her needs—has slowly become something much more meaningful.
Somewhere along the way, Linda stopped being just someone I worked with.
She became my friend.
Someone I care deeply about.
Someone who makes me laugh.
Someone who teaches me more than she probably realizes.
And one of the things I’ve come to appreciate most about Linda is something that might seem small at first.
Her face.
Because Linda has many faces—and each one tells me something.
Learning to Listen Without Words
As dementia progresses, communication begins to change.
Words can become harder to find.
Thoughts may not always come out the way they once did.
So when I spend time with Linda, I pay attention to something different.
I study her face.
Not in a clinical way.
In a listening way.
Because Linda communicates more than she probably knows through the smallest expressions.
And once you start paying attention, it’s amazing how much someone can say without saying a single word.
The Eye Roll
One of my favorite Linda expressions is the eye roll.
Now, this isn’t just any eye roll.
It’s the kind that says, “Oh Jen… you’re being ridiculous again.”
Sometimes I get a little goofy trying to make her laugh. And when that eye roll shows up, I know I’ve succeeded in getting a reaction.
And then, usually, comes the little smirk.
It’s one of those moments where the disease fades into the background for a second and it’s just two people sharing a laugh.
The “Not Today” Look
Then there are the days when Linda gives me a different face.
A serious one.
The kind of look that clearly says:
“Not today.”
Maybe she’s tired.
Maybe the world feels confusing.
Maybe it’s just not her day.
And that look reminds me of something important.
Slow down.
On those days, the goal isn’t conversation or activity.
The goal is simply presence.
Sometimes sitting quietly together is the most meaningful support I can give.
The Curious Look
There’s another expression Linda gives that I’ve come to recognize.
It’s the slightly tilted head.
The searching eyes.
It’s the look that tells me she’s trying to figure something out.
Maybe she’s trying to place me.
Maybe she’s processing what’s happening around her.
And in those moments, I remember something we often forget in dementia care:
The brain is still working—just in a different way.
That curious look reminds me to be patient and give her time.
What Linda Has Taught Me
Linda has taught me that communication doesn’t disappear with dementia.
It simply changes.
When words become harder, expressions become louder.
Eyes tell stories.
A raised eyebrow becomes a message.
A small smile becomes connection.
And if we slow down enough to notice, there is still so much being said.
The Person Is Still There
Dementia changes abilities, but it does not erase personality.
Linda is still Linda.
She is still expressive.
Still funny.
Still capable of connection in ways that matter deeply.
Her faces remind me every week that there is still someone there to listen to—even when the words aren’t always there.
And sometimes the best thing we can do as supporters, caregivers, or friends is simply pay attention.
Because if we do, we might realize something beautiful:
There is still a lot being communicated.
We just have to learn how to listen differently.
