Losing him again

He’s been several people over the past many months.

Well, this is not at all unexpected; aren’t we all many people over a lifespan.

I look at him sleeping now and regret that I can’t recall with any confidence what he was like two months ago or four years ago.

I know who he is most days these days. He falls asleep at the drop of a spoon; when he’s awake, he stares and makes noises.

Burt seems to be talking, quietly to himself. He does communicate. His aide coaxed a big smile out of him the other morning. That was delightful.

Burt is living in two dimensions; his life seems flattened out.

I want to remember the Burt of a couple of months ago. He was lively; he was mobile and social. We communicated amicably then.

I want to recall our life 20 years past when we came home from a show at a downtown theater or across town at the ballet.

My memory of what he was like  is vague. I want it to be more vivid.

It will be, I am sure, when I need it to be.