‘Do you want to go down and sing some songs, Nancy?’ the nurse asks, not expecting an answer. Then she directs her query to me. ‘Are you going to take her downstairs for the party? She’s in good form today.’ The nurse turns back to Mom. ‘You’re feeling good today, aren’t you, Nancy?’

Christ, it’s like she’s talking to a dog. Good girl, good girl, Nancy.

The enthusiasm shown by Oakridge staff always amazes me. Their competence in trying to entertain the unentertainable deserves a medal. The excitement is growing as I push Mom into the social room. I will try to relax, forget what’s going on in the outside world.

Balloons float in every corner. A table of sandwiches, cakes and brightly colored napkins sits in the center of the room. Smiles beam on the faces of every staff member as they help organize seats and spaces for everyone. Their ability to live in the here and now, to make this moment matter for the people in their care, is second to none. One nurse in particular looks like I do after a few too many. She is dancing from chair to wheelchair, holding the hands of each patient before moving onto the next one. A lady, introduced to us as Mae, is giving it socks on the piano, bashing the keyboard like she’s the star attraction at Symphony Hall. Already some of the patients are singing along, bringing smiles and laughs to their families. My mom isn’t. She sits in her wheelchair looking around like she’s just landed on another planet.

Mae moves on to another song now, I think it’s from a musical. Mom used to love musicals. Chicago. Singin’ in the Rain. She always said Mamma Mia! was her favorite. After hearing a few notes, I realize I know this song. Mom used to sing it when she was cooking, she told me her mom sang it to her. ‘Moon River’. I lean in, put my lips to her ear and croon the opening words to her, hoping that she can hear me through the fog her brain exists in. Then something wonderful happens. Mom turns to look at me and her eyes open wide. I think she knows me. She does, she knows me. It’s as if someone is kissing my heart. Squeezing her hand, tears come to my eyes. Happy tears. Then I notice her dry lips parting. Holding my breath, I wait, leaning in to catch the words as she completes the lyrics, singing in a small, cracked voice. Wiping tears from my eyes, I feel a warmth travel through my body. It’s like a present from an angel.

Nothing else matters in this moment. Not Stephen Black or Detective Ivy Turner or Katie Collins. Just ‘Moon River’ and Mom back in her own kitchen singing those words.