"It's lovely today, Dad. You want the shades opened?" Greg twitched the lightweight curtain back so the sun fell obliquely across the old man's face. "Not too bright, is it? No? Good. We'll take your chair out, go for a stroll later, if you like. Maybe feed the geese."
He sat by the bed and reached into his back pocket. "I brought the book we've been reading. Let me find the page." He thumbed through the well-worn Zane Grey novel until he found the spot. His dad loved those Wild West stories. Used to read them aloud to Greg when he was a kid, so Greg learned to love them, too. Since his father had gone into care, Greg read them back. He felt both fear and comfort at the symmetry.
He paused and glanced up to see this father's eyes on him, still as brown and clear as Greg's own. Still sharp. The mind was in there even if speech had gone. "You good? You want to go on or take a break?"
A tiny smile of encouragement. The slightest lift of one hand was enough to clue Greg. He'd learned to read the small signals over time. He smiled back and nodded. "Right. Where was I?" He inhaled, found his place, and began again to read from the book.