Speaking of the day of hearts and flowers, and I did mention it, this is another particularly difficult holiday.
It’s that love stuff that gets us.
Most of us have seen our marriages transformed by Lewy [or, really, any dementia]. Intimacy is not what it used to be.
Love, of course, is a resilient and enduring emotion. It takes hold of our hearts and souls as much as it does our bodies.
It’s likely that, after a number of years of caregiving, you and your beloved are not going out for a champagne dinner. Probably not even a beer or soda pop one.
Our corner pizza parlor is already decorated in anticipation of next Friday’s revelers. The Cafe down the block stands ready to deliver on its very French prix fixe in 3 courses and a toast.
It feels like everyone is going to hang with their special someone on the 14th. Cupid is armed and ready. We’re in a fomo mode.
We miss the closeness. We miss the romance. I miss the sentimental cards – usually 2 – from Burt. It’s just not our holiday anymore.
this is our life 