Singing to Dad

I took the hymnbook from the piano bench, sat as close to Dad as his cumbersome wheelchair would allow---do I sit where he can hear me or sit where he can see me?  I started at the beginning of the book just flipping through the pages and singing the good ol' hymns.

Dad always loved music---music is soothing to the soul---and they say that "hearing" is the last of the senses to remain with a person.

After quite a few songs, I think the second scan through the book, my voice was getting tired, but I got what I wanted.

A response.

Dad raised his eyebrows and looked directly at me.

Recognition of my face?  Recognition of my voice?  Approval of the music?  Doesn't matter.  I know he heard me.  So thankful for that raise of the eyebrows.