from your old boy, old satchmo, gizzard louis armstrong. - (singing) ♪ this old boy from new orleans.angerous. but satchmo was more than a caricature. he had desires. he hadongings. he had secrets. and in private, he made sure to defend the things that he loved. - and one of those was me. but we always longed for more. i still do. and i know in my heart, so did he. hidad. i thought that telling our story would bring me some peace. and it has. but it's left me with so many more questions too. there is some sliverf ght that reminds me of all the things i loved about you, your hearty laugh, how special we felt to be in yourresence, the way that grumbly, froggy voice oyours sang out my name, sharon. until now, i've be nothg more than an enigma, a fonote in your narrative, worthy, in some cases, of not even a sentence in your public life. but yet, we were so much more a part of your heart, being rendered invisible hurts. i need you to know that. but i've come to accept that you did what you thought you could do, and that was best for all. it wasn't, but that doesn't make you any less my fa