<http://www.guideposts.com/story/mysterious-ways-father-singing>"Moonlight 
Becomes You 
<http://www.guideposts.com/story/mysterious-ways-father-singing>So..."

By Nancy Portz, Claverack, New York
March, 2009

I could clearly remember those wonderful 
childhood days, even as my aging father’s power 
of memory faded­happy days growing up with my 
four brothers and three sisters in that big 
rambling house we loved so much at 244 Robinson Street.

Who could forget those giddy, lively family 
dinners when all 10 of us would crowd in around 
the table at dinnertime, times when Mom and Dad 
were known to spontaneously burst into song? 
“Moonlight becomes you so…” my dad would croon to 
Mom, doing his best Bing Crosby impression for us.

During the last five years of his life, 
Alzheimer’s cruelly stole my dad’s memory, until 
he could no longer remember any of his eight 
children, his wife of 52 years, not one of those 
special moments we had shared around the dining 
room table at 244 Robinson Street.

When Dad finally passed away, I tried to console 
myself by imagining him up in heaven, healthy 
once more, singing and doing his best Crosby imitations.

The whole family gathered at my house right after 
Dad’s funeral. All of those sad faces, all of 
those tears, just compounded my own grief.

I wandered into the kitchen to get away from 
everything for a minute. There was a clock radio 
sitting out on the counter. Maybe some music will 
cheer me up, I thought. I flipped on the radio, 
sure that only a miracle could make me feel even the slightest bit better.

Right then, a song began playing. Not just any 
song. “Moonlight becomes you so,” Bing Crosby sang.

I raced into the other room to grab my mom, my 
sisters and brothers. “You have to come in here,” 
I said. “You’ll never believe what I’m listening to.”

They followed me into the kitchen and we all 
stood there together, listening. For the first 
time in weeks, I saw a smile on my mom’s face.

“How often do you hear that Bing Crosby song on the radio?” I asked her.

Mom just shook her head.

Then I looked at the time on the clock face: 2:44 
P.M. it read. 244 Robinson Street.

The clock remained that way throughout the entire 
song­all three minutes of it­before changing.

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