In my encounters with friends and acquaintances, I feel heavy. Physically, of course, I am.
It is the sorrow I carry in my heart that makes me feel weightier.
This, I think, at each conversation is not the gravitas I hoped to achieve.
I have toned down the impulse to spill it all. I no longer overshare on cue.
I talk on topics more neutral than my sadness, like religion or politics.
Even addiction or sobriety seem like safer subjects than the details of my emotions. Of course, there is no news. Burt’s decline is just what it is. No real change once I acknowledge it.
My feelings on that front don’t change either. I am sad, and it’s hard to see him so lost. Lost to me; lost to himself.
I still know who he is even when he seems uncertain.
I can still laugh. I can still feel the tenderness of love.
That lightens me. That’s not so heavy.
this is our life 