Tonight will be fine

Last weekend was Father’s Day. We all gathered in my Dad’s backyard and had a lovely family lunch while the kids acted crazy and the dogs begged for food.

Once the KFC had been eaten and the silly string fight had ended, Dad and I found ourselves under an umbrella on the grass quietly enjoying each others company.

A song came through his speakers so I asked him who it was. Little did I know by asking that question, I was about to be in tears.

“Rufus Wainwright,” he said. “This was the song that got me through when you were in the hospital.”

My dad was with me every night in the hospital the first week after I fell, staying awake beside me as I struggled to survive the pain I was in. He’d turn my light on, turn it back off, change the channel, yell at the nurses, fix that wrinkle in my sheet, put his hand on my forehead, and help me count down the minutes until I could push the pain-button again and send another dose of Dilaudid through the IV plugged into my vein.

And then he quoted the lyric as it sang past me, “Tonight will be fine… for a while.” He went on, “because you were SO tough… but then we’d have to adjust your leg pillows.”

(this isn’t Rufus Wainright singing, but this guy’s voice is just as beautiful)

…she’s moving her body so brave and so free.
If I’ve got to remember that’s a fine memory.

And I know from her eyes
and I know from her smile
that tonight will be fine,
will be fine, will be fine, will be fine
for a while.

…

I’m grateful for you, Dad.