Young Lady.(Kevin Hughes) He sighed.
His thoughts were slow, soft, gentle. Sixty three years with that woman had passed in what seemed like (to him) a heartbeat.
A heartbeat was exactly what was missing now. She was gone. He had held her hand to the last. Even a bit longer, as the Nurses had huddled outside the door. Unwilling witnesses to the most intimate of scenes. Unable to control either their tears or their hearts.
They had come to know him, and his “young lady” as he referred to her when speaking to them - and her. At first they thought it was just cute. Later, well…they realized that in his mind, and in her heart, it was always an accurate description.

He loved her in a way that spoke to the very center of their female souls. He had treated all of them with great respect for their knowledge and care…without an ounce of artifice in any of his compliments. They tried their best to make her last days as easy on her as possible. They tried to do the same for him, but he would live…so there was only so much they could do for him.

When she passed, they ignored protocol. Instead they stood like warriors in white shoes and gowns - stopping anyone from coming in the room to disturb his last goodbyes. When he crawled in next to his wife, and spoke softly to her while gently stroking her hair, tears fell in torrents from the gathering of Nurses outside the door.

No. He would not be disturbed. They turned their backs to the quiet one way conversation in the room, and faced the hallway like valkyries - daring any Doctor, Administrator, or Functionary to intrude on the scene behind them. No one did.

A half hour later. His eyes dry with no more tears to shed, he emerged from the room. He hugged each of them, thanked them, and said:

“You were so good to my young lady. She wanted me to thank you for her.”

No one had words. They were useless things. But his words rang in their hearts for ever more. After that night, they were better Nurses, better people, and better lovers. They had learned what love was…and could do.

He went home. He never said a word in the Uber. He paid the bill on his smartphone, leaving a large tip, and giving the man a "Five Star.” He smiled as he entered the tip and rating.

“Thank you, Young Lady, for buying a smartphone for me, and taking the time to teach me how to use it.”

When he closed the app, her face appeared as the screenshot. It was a picture he took while she was cutting strawberries up for her homemade strawberry shortcakes. She was unaware that he took the picture, because as she cut the strawberries up into the right size pieces, she wasn’t really there. She was back in her childhood, on the porch of Grandma’s house, cutting strawberries along side her Mother, two sisters and her little brother.

Grandma was merely supervising. Making the children laugh as she ate all the “mistakes” that were either cut too small, or left too large. The red juice dripping from her grandmother’s lips, and the giggles of her family beside her rose up to erase any signs of old age from her face. And that…is when he snapped the picture.

He unlocked the front door. Hung his hat on the stem of the coat rack. Out of habit he said out loud:

“I am home Young Lady.”

There was no answer.

---