So sometimes my voice changes key in the middle of a song, but he’d asked for some tough ones: “Amazing Grace,” “One Day at a Time,” “How Great Thou Art.” I don’t sing every day, like I used to, and a cappella is tough without lots of practice. It’s mostly me singing, but on a track or two my husband’s playing guitar. I made him a tape a year or two ago, me singing his favorite hymns and spirituals, with a few good-old country songs tossed in. I sing to him every night, though I’m not always there in the make-shift bedroom. That room is filled with memories of music, the ghosts of songs still whispering in the air. I never got very good on the organ, though got good enough to play at church services some. Crowding into the space where our thirdhand, got-it-cheap, Hammond B-3 organ used to sit. For now, his bed is pushed up against the wall where our red upright piano sat. I’m not always there in the make-shift bedroom set up where our music room used to be. It’s one of the songs I sing to him each night before he goes to sleep. The very next song was “I’ll Fly Away.” Dad never did sing much, but he liked to listen to country music and bluegrass. The ladies in the talking room smiled indulgently. From then on, it was forward-back, forward-back, forward-back, twirl! He was leading the dance, lifting my arm higher each time. When I ducked under his outstretched arm the first time, his grin lit up his face. He was swinging his arms and gently pulling me forward then easing me back. He’d have preferred I was still riding along on his toes.

This time, it was me doing all the leg work, his feet were stepped up on the footrests of his wheelchair. I held out my hand to him, and he reached out with his right to grasp it. We’d dance one dance at cousins’ weddings, and at Mom and Dad’s 40thanniversary party.ĭad never did dance much, but wheeled up to that step, leaning forward in his chair so he might see Unka Jim cuttin’ it up and making a ruckus with the Southern ladies in the family, I knew he wanted to dance, now. He whispered in my ear, “You’ll always be my little girl.” My mom had always liked to dance, and I think sometimes she envied me.ĭad danced with me at my wedding with tears in his eyes. I envied my niece when I saw the photos of her in her lacy dress of white, my brother in his suit, headed off to their dance.ĭad didn’t dance much. My school didn’t have a father-daughter dance back then they do, now. Dad didn’t dance much, but he started dancing with me early, letting me step up on his toes, wrapping one short arm around his waist, the other hand grasped firmly in his, he’d waltz us around the room. And, somehow, I knew what he was thinking – the same images flaring so brightly in my mind, of father-daughter dances.

The left side of his face still droops some, turning his smiles into wry grins. I saw Dad tapping his toe and clapping one hand against his armrest, saw a bittersweet smile. Dad didn’t buck-dance even before he got his wheels, but he always tapped his feet and clapped his hands at the hoe-downs when we’d visit down South. In buck-dancing, you raise your knees high and slam first toe then heel to the wooden floor, adding the percussion line to the music. It’s a robust dance, none of this suavely swaying to the music without raising a sweat or mussing your hair. I was buck-dancing with the Southern women in the family the Yankee branch of the family calls it clogging. He was stuck in the “talking” room, but from his vantage point he could still hear the band and watch the dancing. He’d wheeled himself as close as he could get to the music room festivities, but a step kept him from going farther. I love u boooo.There was a bluegrass band playing his favorite kind of music at a house party in honor of Auntie Jane. Ps not so good at expressing on texts but u know what i mean and how much u mean to me. Always spreading happiness, positivity, love and sunshine. thankooo my aashu pishu for erry’thing erry’day everytime i meet u i learn soo soo much from you. we had our share of ups and downs, 99percent ups only but that only made us stronger. Someone who’s always always looking after me, protecting me like a MOTHER, and giving me the BEST comforting hug’s. So blessed for this day as you were born, and i got blessed to have you in my life. you’re my protector, mentor, a guiding light. Tina’s post read: Happiness to the sister I never had but always always craved for one. Aashka replied to her post: Such beautiful words, such precious emotions - I feel and appreciate and love every word you wrote - cannot wait for Alex to be in your lap - thank you thank you - love you MO maasi – lots love.

Tina mom of two and hubby