Both of us are the kind of people that don’t let others tell us what to do and think. The longevity of our existence together proves the point—45 years–plus. It seems like it whizzed by so wonderfully.

Outgoing, highly entertaining, wonderful sense of humor. She used to race cars when she was young, which was a major problem for her family, because in Deutschland, that kind of female independence was looked down on. She broke every rule in the book and dressed so gorgeous, like she was in a film noir. She was physically very assured of herself and mentally astute. I’m an introvert who escapes from his self-inflicted prison from time to time, with a vengeance. They say opposites attract!

About six years back. Before then, I didn’t know what was going on. “What do you mean you don’t know where the car keys are?” We were driving along the highway, and she stopped dead in the middle of it, because she didn’t know where she was. I was screaming, “A lorry [truck] could rear-end us at any moment!” I had to realize there was a problem here that I had no answers for. I took her to UCLA Health, because they have an Alzheimer’s center, and then we knew that slowly but surely, it was going to get worse. And it did.

When I was young, I had meningitis and I lost my memory for four years. That gave me the tools to be able to handle what she was going through. I recognized those moments in her eyes when she was baffled and nothing made sense.

I found a great way of getting her out of those things, not by asking questions but through humor. I’d say, “Oh, your nose is big!” And she would burst out laughing. It changed the subject and got her back to where she needed to be. We spent several years laughing at the world together. We’d sit and watch The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, and she’d laugh at their outfits and the preposterousness of their behavior. It thrilled her. Of course, it reached its inevitable conclusion, but the last several years were probably the most fantastic experience that both of us could have had.

Yeah. Nora died happy, I’ve got to say. She knew I loved her. She never forgot my name, by the way, even though the powers that be all promised me that would not be the case.

It was exhausting, yeah, but so what? We hired help to come in two days a week. Nora got friendly with some of them, and they could do womanly things together, which is lacking in me. I can’t do her makeup. She’d end up looking like Alice Cooper!

You couldn’t write the songs I do if you didn’t care. I’ve never based my music on fantasy. It’s always based on an experience. It was difficult to watch Nora’s eyes fade when she died. I knew she was thinking of me in those last few seconds. A fantastic gift, and sad as well. I’d rather have lived the life we led than not have that in my existence at all.

Yes, “Hawaii” is my love song to her. The refrain in the song, “Aloha,” means hello and goodbye. She knew what the song was, but it kind of upset her, the sadness of her demise.

Absolutely not. She’d have been horrified. Horrified!