Love is lovelier

Oh dear. The second time around. 🎼

For me, the second time is really the years after diagnosis and the symptoms. I am the second wife, but Burt is my first. And only.

I know, I am laying it on with extra schmaltz.

There is something to what I heard from a recently widowed LBD wife years ago: we find a deeper love for our person as we care for him/her.

It might be that we now see our spouse more vulnerable. S/He needs us more than ever before. We are needed; our care is needed and wanted.

It’s nice to be wanted.

We’ve lost the partner we used to bounce ideas off before making decisions together. We’ve also  probably lost much of the physical intimacy that makes up a marriage. We can’t rely on the conversations we used to love or enjoy most of the outings we had.

Things are different between us.

But….

But, Burt accepts my care and help and the outreached spoon sweetly and graciously.

I can make our lives in the years of his decline as good, happy, and comfortable as possible.

It’s my responsibility, and I am grateful.