A dapper, 95 year-old man in the independent living complex, William always greeted me warmly. After his wife died some years ago, he started taking care of another woman, a widow. They were good friends and he became protective of her. Then she passed away, too.
Well-turned-out before leaving the apartment, he was always pressed and stylish, delivering a charming, "Hello!" to all encountered.
Recently, though, he began slipping away to inside his own head, as people do. Someone must have alerted family that he wasn’t independent any more. My mom noting, “William is so lost now.”