This writing prompt prompted me to consider what life was like during my journey with Burt and where it is now…
Life after your spouse dies has a new landscape. When added into that structural change is the fact that you spent many years as a caregiver, well, that’s a now what moment. At least it has been for me.
If I am honest, I have to admit that nothing readied me for my years partnering Burt through dementia.
I did it because he got ill. I did it because we took vows, that bit about in sickness and in health: I did take that seriously; I had been aboard for the good stuff, so here I was for whatever came our way.
I chose to keep him close and at home as long as I could. As it turned out it was as long as he lived, but it might have been otherwise. It wasn’t a given, and if I had had to put him in care, it would not have violated my vows. I would have taken care of Burt in whichever way was needed. I have no illusion that keeping Burt at home was noble or better than placing him. I kept him at home because I could.
I was privileged to be able to manage to continue his care in his home, our home to the end. I was grateful that the end was not prolonged or difficult. I think his last days were confusing to him but there was no pain, no discomfort, no extraordinary sadness. He seemed okay with it all. And if it was good for him, it was fine for me.
I think that my adjustment to life without having to give care has been a more arduous joirney than my last years with him. I knew where I belonged and what I needed to do while he was alive. And, it’s weird saying this, but Burt in dementia was a fun guy. For the most part. Fun and funny.
His absence is a puzzlement. I’m figuring it out, but I miss the getting to know you part that I have had to leave behind. I guess, simply put, I miss Burt.
this is our life 