She was 98. He was 80. And to her, he would always be her boy.
She was 98. He was 80. And to her, he would always be her boy.
She was 98, he was 80—and in her eyes, he was still simply “my boy” . In Liverpool, Ada Keating spent nearly her entire life beside her eldest son, Tom. They shared a home, a rhythm, a quiet understanding—until his health declined and he moved into a care home .
Visiting as a guest never felt right to her. She wasn’t finished being his mum. So at 98, Ada made a gentle but powerful choice: she moved in too . Every night she walks the corridor to say goodnight, every morning she stops to say hello . Staff say they’re rarely apart. This isn’t dramatic love—it’s the kind that stays, softly, faithfully, forever .
