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Burt got us out of the market. He had been a stocks and options broker and had happily traded for many years. As the LBD wracked him, he became leery of trading in the markets. I think he recognized, on some level, how complicated it all was. And under his new circumstances, that he wasContinue reading “Saved from the bell”

On Friday night I dreamt that Burt came to chat with me. He sat on the edge of the tub, cigarette in hand. You don’t smoke I said. I thought I’d try it. No harm now. He was casual. We don’t have a tub. He looked well, was lively and he said I got myContinue reading “In my dreams”

I awake, listing all the possible times of night [or early morning] it could be. I get up, walking with that strange rolling gate that age has gifted me. I have become an old woman in the years that Burt suffered his dementia. I stayed perky-ish while he needed me but since he left, IContinue reading “Aging”

A neighbor and I exchanged the back and forth of a condolence greeting. I said, yes I’m heading to the theater with a friend and thinking how much I miss the Burt who would be taking me to the theater. The Burt from way back. He said I remember the Burt from way back. QuickContinue reading “Another conversation”

In February, after nearly five years suffering with dementia, at the age of 85, Burt passed away. Before Burt’s illness we had a pretext of youth. Carefree and adventurous, doing and going was our style. During the years of Burt’s illness we had changed our focus. I am looking to pick up a new thread. IContinue reading “New paths”

I have met and observed others treading the hallowed ground of this dementia, the Lewy Body disease. This poem is a tribute to one such fellow traveler. She of the perpetual sorrowShe carries her dread but isNot sure what it is she fearsHer fear is real but she fearsIt may be just the dread ofContinue reading “Along the way”

I stepped out onto our street after speaking of how thoroughly and well Burt had looked after me. My hope was [and is] that he still does. Here’s the proof on the block: Thank you.

He always cheered for me. Burt was always my champion, even in areas he personally had no interest. Zumba classes. My poetry. Things he would never do, although he dutifully and lovingly listened to my poems. He encouraged me. He enlightened me. His insights, some made during the years of his slow decline, were oftenContinue reading “In my corner”