I’ve always thought of “For All We Know” as a deeply felt, swan song. Rather than hold out the future as a bright tomorrow, this is a last light sentiment. Sure, a future together is possible, but it does not feel probable as the lyrics surrender to an inevitable sadness, the sadness of an ending that feels that–even if there is the possibility of a continuance, or a reconstitution, a rebirth, even a chance encounter–nevertheless, this here, right now, feels like the end of the line. Who knows what will happen? But this feels final.

And that leads us to the question of how shall we enact our last time together? For lovers it seems obvious, yet, ultimately unenjoyable. What is there left to look forward to? Who can really find satisfaction in the end of a beautiful friendship, a beautiful love, the dissolution of an affair that at one point seemed forever?

I’ve tried to gather some distinctive farewell interpretations by artists who each had a highly unique approach, a distinctive sound, and a voice that cries but does not sob–what you might call a beautiful sadness.

Nina mixes in Bach-like accompaniment; Johnny Hartman is wonderfully subtle in a soft jazz approach that highlights his sensitive baritone sound; working in a piano/guitar/bass trio format, Nat King Cole shows us what much of fifties pop would eventually sound like; and, of course, queen Aretha throws down with a Broadway leaning, R&B flavored version; plus, there are a few other variations such as contemporary jazz by McCoy Tyner and by Wynton Marsalis; a little something-something for everyone.

But of course, of course, for many of us, this moment belongs to the supremely gifted but ultimately tragic, Donnie Hathaway–which is why I end with a Donnie performance snippet.

I won’t, indeed can’t, rank them. There are some I identify with more than others, but all of them are anchored in a note of appreciative finality: “I’m glad we got together when we did. Let’s just leave it at that. Adieu.”