“Baby!” his immediate answer when she asked what endearing term he called her; the glint in his eyes enlightening his gaunt face. It pleased her to no end to again see and hear him say that. It appeared that he was happy too.

Her nickname, her name, and her face were all that he could remember and nothing else. She was upset about his progressive dementia and declining quality of life. She agonized about her inability to see him personally, aborting flight plans because of the pandemic.

Nonetheless, she was grateful to his Hospice caretaker for organizing that video chat in late winter. It was short, bittersweet, and memorable.

Two weeks later she received a call.

“Hello! This is the nurse at the Senior Memory Care. I am sorry to tell you but your friend passed away in his sleep at 4:01 this morning.”

“Oh, no!” she replied, holding her breath for a brief second. “Thank you very much for telling me. I appreciate everything that you have done for him.”

She put her phone on her chest and inhaled deeply, sobbing as she released the warm air from her chest.

“Sweet!” she uttered several times. It was the only word that came out of her mouth, the pet name that she had for him. In a way it expressed all the emotions associated with the loss of someone dear.

They met at a party; she was 21 and he was 40. It was his cultured, mature demeanor; his blue eyes; and his ability to play piano by ear, which created a sensation at the party, that attracted him to her. She never fully believed why he liked her, being self-deprecating when he enumerated her appealing traits.

They married soon after.

The decades that followed were filled with such bliss. They had well-paying jobs. They vacationed all over the world. Both were good cooks, taking turns in whipping up favorite dishes for each other. They even got a miniature dachshund which he doted upon until it passed away. He played piano and she sang.

Both were the only child in their family; their parents were deceased. They never yearned to have children.

She knew that he had always wanted to retire in San Francisco, but didn’t worry too much about it. She thought that he would change his mind over time, especially his being aware of her strong attachment to their house in midwestern suburbia. But he was insistent.

“Sweet, would you please reconsider? I would like for us to grow old together!” she pleaded.

“I am sorry, Baby. But it’s been on my mind early on and you’ve known it all along.”

She got in her car to follow him in the rented moving truck for a long stretch until he exited into the tollway. They were both in tears; it was heart-rending.

They never remarried.

The distance didn’t alter their affection for each other. They looked forward to their Saturday phone chats. He called if the Saturday fell on an odd date, and she did if it was even. On birthdays, he’d wake her up early, playing “Happy Birthday” on the piano, she sang it on his.

“Hi, Baby! I am sending you the piano, freight prepaid,” he said on the phone one Saturday, his hand arthritis in rapid progression.

“No!” she groaned. “It will only make me more melancholic. Besides I don’t know how to play the piano. Right?”

It arrived anyway, back to where it used to be like it never left.

The Saturday calls became infrequent when he was admitted to the Senior Memory Care Facility. And then there was no communication until the Hospice caretaker made the video chat possible.

It was on an early spring day, when the lily that he planted was again in full bloom. Its fragrance wafted by her as she was having her coffee on the outdoor porch. All of a sudden, she sensed an urge to do what she had been avoiding for so long.

She approached the baby grand piano, wiping the dust that had gathered since it was delivered. She started to play, one note at a time with one finger, a song popularized by the group “Bread” in the 70s. It was his favorite song that he loved to play on the piano for her.

She let the tears well up and flow unencumbered through the creases on her face, smiling as if someone was helping her on the piano keyboard.

“If a picture paints a thousand words…then you and I would simply fly away.”