Prince of love

Because I was at home in Italy and Mom was in Maryland, flying to her side wasn't as fast or simple as popping down the road. I arrived too late to be with her during the last moments of her death watch, but the point had really been to keep Dad company. She had been doped up with morphine during her final hospital stay, anyway, to the point where she perhaps hadn’t recognized my father on some of his final visits and definitely would not have recognized me.

She hadn’t known who I was for about two years. But usually she knew who Dad was, and would call him her "Prince of Love". She might stumble over his name, but the “Prince of Love” label came flowing right out.