Burt was extraordinary. He and I had lived a happy, carefree, and modest life. We had no ambition to stir us towards greatness.
He had daydreams of coaching a hapless team with me in the dug- out by his side. Sometimes. Not an ambition.
We were impressed by talent and in Burt’s case that meant shaking hands and fangirling. There are opportunities to do this in a city like ours. Celebrity sighting was easy.
Mostly, we just strolled to and from theaters, arenas, stadiums, restaurants. Or, usually, just our neighborhood. He enjoyed.
When he got sick with Lewy Body Dementia, he still enjoyed. I do not deny the challenges- to him, nor to me.
It is not an unseemly conceit to say that caregiving requires us to be extraordinary. While you are in the thick of doing it, it’s just what has to be done. A few of us who are taking care of a beloved are suited to it; most of us just have to. I did what was needed. A lot was. No prizes for that but, it was for Burt, so I am glad I could. I also had help, and support.
In some odd way, Burt amazed me during his disease. I told him about the hallucinations he’d had during the first year; he showed me how well he knew me.
He was intrigued: I did?, he said; he immediately knew what they had been. Burt said I thought it was strange that you let them live there with us. He understood that I would not have tolerated the intrusion.
To Burt the idea that he could have experienced hallucinations was fascinating, but apparently he had wondered why I allowed those pesky strangers in our home.
I met a lot of his greatness while he was sick.
Burt became expansive during his illness. He talked to people he met near our apartment and in the halls of our building. Burt enjoyed. I came to see more and more of that joy in him. It gave me joy. Burt was extraordinary. I got to see just how true that was up close. What a treat! What a joy!
this is our life 