• Richard cleared his throat as he sat down on the chair next to the hospital bed. The woman in it gave him no more than a fleeting glance. There was no recognition in her eyes. Richard wasn’t surprised. According to the doctors, Lilian’s Alzheimer’s had progressed to the inevitable final stage.
    He carefully sat the vase on the small table beside the bed. “Hi, Lily. How’re you feeling today?” he asked gently.
    His wife met his eyes, but nothing registered in her own but faint curiosity. “Hello,” she said cautiously.
    Richard gave her a small, sad smile. “Do you recognize me?” he asked.
    She slowly shook her head. “No. Should I?” She asked, puzzled.
    Richard was faintly disappointed, but not too surprised. Lilian had fought her disease with surprising strength since her diagnosis; at first, she had quizzed and drilled herself at every turn, determined not to allow herself to succumb. But eventually, the disease had consumed her. Her memory had slipped away from her gradually, and the day that she could no longer remember her children’s names had indeed been a sad day for Richard.
    But although he’d remained strong for her throughout the entire ordeal, his heart had broken three months ago, when he’d woken up one morning to find that she could no longer remember who he was. On that day, he’d made the heartwrenching decision to place her in a full-care nursing home. There were professionals here who did their best for his Lilian, and were able to give her the care that he himself simply couldn’t give anymore-he was eighty-three, the same age as his wife. He still visited her every day, despite his own rapidly failing health and the crushing depression that threatened to overwhelm him more each day.
    None of their children nor grandchildren ever visited her. He supposed he could understand it-it wasn’t as if she recognized any of them-but it still filled him with helpless anger.
    He smiled at her, the woman he’d loved for over sixty years. Her hair, which had once been a thick, luxurious brown, was now white, wispy, and dead-looking. Her flesh had shrunk, clinging to her bones, and her hands were knotted with arthritis. But to Richard, the most shocking transformation was her eyes; once filled with clear love and wonder, they were now dim and vague. Even so, he still thought she was one of the most beautiful people he’d ever seen.
    “Do you know what today is, Lily?” he asked softly and gently.
    Her eyebrows bunched together in a small frown. Her eyes darted to the side, then back to him. “Thursday?” she asked brightly.
    Richard smiled at her. “That’s right,” he said warmly, pretending that he didn’t notice her glance at the calendar hanging on the wall. “But it’s also a special day. Do you know what it is?”
    She smiled uncertainly. “Is it my birthday?” she asked.
    Richard shook his head, then carefully grasped her hands in his own, feeling her thin, dry skin. “No. It’s our anniversary, Lily.”
    “We’re married?” she asked, startled.
    Richard nodded. “Sixty years today.”
    Lilian dropped her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I don’t know who you are.”
    The old familiar depression crashed around his heart at that. A small part of him had desperately hoped that, somehow, she would recognize him, even if it was just for this one day alone.
    But then a thought crossed his mind, a thought that lifted his spirits and cleared the sorrow from his heart. Incredibly, a genuine smile lifted his lips. He leaned forward, his voice low and urgent.
    “That’s okay, Lily. You don’t have to. You see, I know who you are. And I always will. You’re the one who could always look at someone, even when they were at their worst, and find the one beautiful thing about them. You’re the one who would give anything, everything you have, to someone who didn’t have anything at all. You’re the woman my mother always wanted me to find, and I was lucky enough to find her.”
    Her eyes locked with his, and he read the faint wonder on her face. After a brief pause for breath, he continued.
    “You raised our children with a gentle hand, but you knew when to put your foot down. You adored every piece of jewelry I ever gave you. You poured your heart out into your garden; your favorite flowers were lilies. It was a running joke between us, because of your name. You grew lots of them in your garden.” Richard blinked, startled that he had forgotten, and handed her the vase he had brought in. It was filled with bright white lilies. “Here’s some of them,” he said softly. “Happy anniversary, Lily. I love you. I always have.”
    Throughout his speech, her eyes had flickered strangely, and when she took the lilies and gazed at them, an odd expression came over her face. He held his breath, hardly daring to believe. Surely it was his own wishful imagination…
    “Richard?” she whispered.