He was looking for the Sun, but the sun was already shining

“Where is the Sun?” He was shouting now, fists clenched and eyes fixed on the window.

The blinds were wide open. The morning sun streamed in.Staff pointed outside. They reassured. They redirected. Nothing worked.

Until his daughter walked in, opened her handbag, and handed him a folded newspaper. “Here’s your Sun, Dad.”

Not the sun in the sky. The newspaper.It had been called the Herald Sun for decades.

Ray's story highlights that sometimes simple questions such as “Where’s the Sun?” is not a question about the weather.

In Ray's case, it was about ritual. Familiarity. A life lived in patterns that still matter.

Dementia Australia says it simply, “Person-centred care… sees services provided in a way that is respectful of, and responsive to, the preferences, needs, values and life experience of people living with dementia.”

Ray didn’t want sunshine. He wanted The Sun, the newspaper he read every morning for 40 years.

Recognising that didn’t just settle the moment. It reconnected him to who he is.

Sometimes, one small object does more than redirection or reassurance ever could.

That’s the kind of insight we are building for, and learning from each day.

But to him, it would always be The Sun, the one he read every morning with toast and tea. His behaviour wasn’t confusion. It was routine, misheard.

Maybe he is not resisting care. Maybe we just haven’t yet understood the care he needs.

Have you seen a moment like this, where behaviour only made sense once the past came into view?We would love to hear about it.