As Burt’s dementia proceeded, I noticed aspects of his character I had not noticed or paid attention to while he was well. These were not new; it was what he’d always had to offer. I just hadn’t noticed or paid attention to them before. His illness put me more in tune with him. Honestly, IContinue reading “The journey”
Category Archives: Love
Burt’s hands
When we were younger, Burt’s hand clasped firmly over mine was a source of pleasant comfort. My hands are small; when we were holding hands, Burt’s hand enveloped mine. Holding hands is a way that those in love signal belonging. Over these last years we spent together, I truly admired his hands. Burt had long,Continue reading “Burt’s hands”
Love and marriage
We’ve talked about love during caregiving, but I have not been forthright about sex. We don’t talk about that in polite society as my mother would assert. A visiting carer who came by to see Burt was not so circumspect. She suggested I should connect with someone in circumstances like my own. “It’s not cheating,”Continue reading “Love and marriage”
Take care
It hadn’t occurred to me until my friend T said it. Burt chose me. He knew I would be there for him. I am always uncertain when I say that, although she assured me it was true. There were all those times his wife was missing. Did she go to Walgreens, she was always atContinue reading “Take care”
Our story
We met at a bar called Tramps on Friday, May 3rd in 1990. There had been a phone call on Wednesday during which we had made that date. Technically, we met on May 1, 1990, I guess, but according to our Beck love lore, it’s always been May 3rd, now 35 years ago. On Friday,Continue reading “Our story”
Nearly 12,775 days
As I glance at the photo of our wedding, I say to Burt “That was the best day of my life.” It was, but actually, nearly all of the nearly 12,775 days I spent with you were the best. That day, May 1992, came after two years of getting-to-know-yous and adjustments. It was a lifeContinue reading “Nearly 12,775 days”
Burt and I
Mourning and loss isn’t an illness. We don’t want to recover from it. We don’t expect to recover. We do, of course, hope to get past the initial shock and sadness. But the loss, that’s now and forever. The loss is permanent. Burt’s not coming back. I mourn that loss. It saddens me to have toContinue reading “Burt and I”
Quiet
The house is very empty without Burt’s presence. After he passed, I changed its configuration, flipping bedroom for livingroom. There is a kind of hush over both rooms. In many ways, it doesn’t feel like it was his house these last few years. Well, that’s not completely true; actually the big brown chair – hisContinue reading “Quiet”
The Firehouse
Back in the neighborhood with the reminiscent firehouse, I am early^* for Fresh Tracks at New York LiveArts. Once again I am reminded about Burt’s encounter with the fireman all those years ago. ^*I went extra early with the intention of snacking and sitting at Ama Vita on W19. It’s closed on Saturdays?¿ Of course,Continue reading “The Firehouse”
Perfect
The thing about perfection is that it does not stand alone. That is to say, it is relative, as in what is perfect to you or for you is not objectively perfect. In the eye of the beholder. We are all flawed. We are all perfect. So, Burt was perfect. I remember some rough spots,Continue reading “Perfect”
this is our life 