Some stories

Burt’s journey has ended. My journey continues without him. Or perhaps by dint of remembrance, with him, just kind of looking out for me.

Like he always did.

Part of my portmanteau now is recording what was. Both the orts and the epic.

I know my friends expected me to tell tales of Burt at the party of celebration on the 3rd. I could have but I am not great at the extemporé story. Fortunately, there are frequent triggers.

At Saturday’s celebration, I was privileged to have my memory shaken by hearing some of the remembrances of others; by a tribute to Burt from one of my besties whose help when things were muddiest is always at top of mind; by the presence of new friends and old, of neighbors.

For instance, I had forgotten how often Burt came to pick me up from the gym until our friend MS said she met him in the lobby so often that she was sure he had a membership.

Another friend came home with me from the party; she got to hear that May 3rd, 1992 was as warm a Saturday as the one this year.

She also got to hear about the little horse, a Saratoga souvenir Burt bought for me. And on the day of the Kentucky Derby!

Hey, a horserace is a horserace.

Speaking of horse racing or riding, SW told me a story I had not heard.

She said she was decked out in a new outfit, featuring a pair of rhinestoned boots and feeling all fashion-plate. Burt, who, make no mistake, adored her, blurted “Are you going horseback riding?”

I have to admit that the lack of filter didn’t just come with dementia. Burt aligned blurting with honesty. His form of transparent affection, perhaps?

Burt’s friends in the room at our party knew him at different stages in his story. I think they were able to share how, where and when they met him. And as my friend L said retell some of Burt’s “pearls of wisdom;” she had appreciated.