In my corner

He always cheered for me.

Burt was always my champion, even in areas he personally had no interest.

Zumba classes. My poetry. Things he would never do, although he dutifully and lovingly listened to my poems. He encouraged me. He enlightened me. His insights, some made during the years of his slow decline, were often intelligent and thoughtful.

Burt made the unlikely request that I sing along when music played. It seems he enjoyed my enthusiasm more than he regretted the missed notes.

Burt also had an unerring compassion. Up until the last few months, he always asked after those around him. We would talk about his concerns and issues, he’d stop, holding my arm, “How are you feeling?”

He did much the same with anyone around him. He was genuinely intetested.

He could be so joyful. His goal as the illness progressed was to make people laugh. He often hit that mark. With ease and a wide grin.

Now that his passing has quieted his mirth, I like to think he will always be in my corner; that he will always be a champion of my best interests. Love doesn’t die, my dear, it cheerfully continues to fill the heart.