What's in a Name?

I just returned from dropping Chip's daughter Cat at the airport. Chip introduced me to her as Cat, so I will stick with calling her by that name until I am told, by her, to call her otherwise (As Juliet told us, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose / By Any Other Name would smell as sweet"). Some know her as Kate, and yet others as Catherine, which was the name I noticed Chip preferred to use for her in the last year or so of his life (I'm not sure why). Sometimes he would call her K.C. (for "Kissable Catherine"), a childhood nickname he gave her, but Cat never latched onto it as a possibility of a name to go by. When he said "K.C.," I could tell it was his favorite way of referring to her because it held the most meaning to him. The deepest of deep love for her in his eyes and smile was unmistakable when he called her "K.C." Saying goodbye to Cat/Kate/Catherine/KC this morning hit me so hard, since she is the last living piece of him to be here with me in our home during this time of acute loss and pain. As I previously wrote, I didn't know Chip's last name for 3 or so months after meeting him and I would slowly learn more about him and his name as time went by. I'm not sure when I discovered his first name was actually Lammot, but, being a francophile, his first name and French ancestry interested me. His nickname "Chip" came from being a "chip off the old block" since he was Lammot duPont Copeland, III. His parents, siblings and those who have known him far longer than me called him "Chipper" (it always warmed my heart to hear them call him by that name). When he started at Willis Towers Watson on November 7, 2016, workmates called him Lammot and he never thought it necessary to tell them he went by "Chip." I never got used to the sound of people calling him Lammot at office Christmas parties and get-togethers, but I always believed he did so to embrace himself, his whole self, after receiving his Stage 3 (inoperable) pancreatic cancer diagnosis on November 27, 2016. We never had nicknames for each other until about 6 or so months ago. Chip had begun saying 'Yes, ma'am" and "No, ma'am" to me to be a good example for my son Sam, who is 10. After a few days of this, I expressed to him that being called "Ma'am" by him did not sit well with me. I explained that, for me, it did not reflect the romantic and physical love we shared. I also noted that it was how he referred to waitresses at Waffle House (one of his favorite breakfast spots!) when ordering his meal or thanking them for pouring more coffee. He agreed and was happy to re-think it. We brainstormed a bit on possible pet names for each other (we laughed a lot during this contrived exercise), and after a few minutes he said "I love you so much. 'My love' fits for you." I immediately said "Ok, my darling," and the names stuck. I quickly changed his name in my phone to "My Darling Husband" and we exchanged the pet names daily, right up until the moment in the ER when things took a sudden turn for the worse. When I returned home from the ER in the dark of the morning of May 31, 2020, I read the love letter he wrote to me on May 6, 2020 (I had encouraged him to write me one on that day since he wasn't feeling well, and I thought writing might help him clear his head). In it, on a line all it's own, he wrote "My love! My love! My love!" Just as Juliet loved Romeo as a person and not due to his family name, so too did I love Chip Copeland, my darling husband. He was important to me because of the way he was, not because of what he was called. His name was just a label to distinguish him from another human being, and did not give him any true meaning or worth. He had worth because he deserved it, something it took him his entire lifetime to come to know.