In the little over three months since Burt’s passing, I have begun to feel old. Well, to express it more accurately, I have begun feeling my age.
My first, initial, reaction was that the strain of care, worrying about Burt’s physical and emotional state, lifted. That came also with a lift of my shoulders a few days after he died.
The last month or two, every muscle has tightened and my joints all ache. It might be that I am now, in the midst of grief, experiencing the strain of mourning.
My theory is that, actually, this is how old I am. While Burt lived, I needed to stay fresh and mobile for the sake of his care. My years are simply catching up to me now that he’s gone.
Time will tell.
this is our life 