Caregiving is the hardest job I ever had. Or, it was until Burt died and I suddenly had a much harder job.
This, like my caring for him, is truly a labor of love.
The work of missing Burt involves the pleasure of remembering him. It’s a consolation prize but not really a prize since it recognizes his absence.
This work of recall hurts and heals; Burt is no longer present, and I miss him. I am witnessing that loss every day.
Remembering Burt helps bring him back in a way. Honoring his memory brings a smile to my heart.
this is our life 