It isn't easy. Mom's hearing loss means I must speak distinctly and somewhat loudly. Dad keeps up a running commentary interspersed with questions about what's going on in the world and what time it is. When I pause to answer him, Mom loses the thread of the conversation. Soon I give up and ask if they'd like to sing some hymns.
Mom says yes.
We move from hymns to camp songs and other old standbys. Dad joins in rustily when he remembers the words, which is surprisingly often. I remind Dad that last week I'd brought him a book of poems. When I start him on one, he recites the rest from memory. He grins, pleased with himself and with me.