I love you. Farewell

When Burt started having hallucinations (again) in the past several months, they (like the first ones at the beginning of Lewy) were mostly benign.

I think it’s safe to say he felt safe in his home. I am grateful for that.

The worst might have been that he needed to take someone from his crew to task. He would speak harshly to the ceiling where they dwelled.

The harsh lectures were mostly procedural; he was directing somebody to do something. On occasion, it sounded like he was asking advice. «You think so,« he asked earnestly.

Sometimes he would turn away from a conversation we were sharing to address an imaginary friend.

Honestly, I was miffed at losing his attention; I wanted him to myself but shared him with whoever they were. His hallucinations kept him company.

I knew then as I do now that they were his companions on this journey as surely as I was; he had every right to engage with them when he wanted their advice. I learned from his excellent aides who took no offense as he spoke with ceiling friends, to let it be.

At first we all would respond when he started talking to them only to realize he was otherwise occupied. It felt like I was intruding on a rich fantasy life.

In the last four days, he stopped communicating with them and us. He was engaged in breathing and sleeping. I may have told you this before, I regretted not having said goodbye when he still could look me earnestly in the eye. My repeating «I love you« to him will have to stand-in for goodbye.

Since his death, I addressed his bed with my thanks and appreciation. The hospital bed was removed yesterday so I talk to the bedroom. It was his last arena of life. I am grateful for how deeply

Burt touched my life; for the color and adventure and love he brought me.

I have to express that gratitude. Sometimes, I will say it aloud to where I imagine he is.

I’m guessing that’s (among other places- like everywhere) in my heart.