There were other summers
When it was enough to say
'Peaches are good' to make
It a good summer. Summers
Past, before, when you were
Still here, with me. Summers
Not like this one, without you.
This summer, I'm thinking of
How much you would enjoy
This fruit of summer. Burt,
The peaches are good this
Summer. This summer, I am
Missing you. That's not good.
A last goodbye
As I opened the envelope from Krtil, I held my breath. Inside was a certificate ascertaining the latitude and longitude at which Burt’s cremated remains were set into the ocean.
I had dropped that paper into a drawer so quickly that it took me a full 24 hours for it to register. The “it” that I was slow to accept was the date it certified that Burt’s remains went into the L.I. Sound. The “it” was the finality of the event.
I wanted to know, but I wasn’t prepared for this documentation.
Burton Beck was buried at sea on Jul 3rd at 8:45am. Rest in peace, my dear, dear Burt.
The parade
Are you the parade?, she asked
Not in the parade or at the parade
It was a tremendous responsibility
Being the parade, she thought. Yes,
She said. I am. The parade, she
Added.
Where are you?, she asked. Where
Is the parade, you mean?, she said
Yes. I'm in Bayside, she answered.
The parade, it's in Bayside, near the
Water. I mean, I can see the water
From here.
The parade was going to have to go,
She said. It was time to move on, she
Added. I am going to have to keep on
Going. The parade is here but soon it
Will have to be in Flushing and then at
Coney.
I'll be at Coney Island, she agreed. I'll
Be the parade, there. Not in the or at
The, but the parade. This was going
To be all right. It was okay to be the
Parade if she was coming along, too.
She thought.
Children
Craig Robinson and his sister Michelle Obama format their show, IMO, to answer a listener’s question. The issues deal with relationships and the focus is on mental health.
The query, on this episode, has to do with waiting for the guy to decide about having children.
A memory is triggered, as my memories of Burt so frequently are, watching Mrs. Obama talk with Elaine Welteroth.
Burt and I were oldish when we met. Had we been able, would we have had kids?
[Burt really hated that word but he loved little tykes.]
Burt would have wanted us to have a child. Had I been able, yes, I think I would have wanted to share a child with him.
I always erred on the side of not wanting the responsibility. Truly, we might have had very different parenting styles. I know that had we become parents, it would have changed our experience of each other.
Since parenting was not a strong suit, I don’t have to feel the guilt of messing up another person’s life.
We didn’t have to deal with all that bringing up a child involves; that made it possible for us to play together more.
I have no regrets that we couldn’t – I am even glad we did not, but I would have liked having a little Burt.
Good advice
Some days, Burt is so intensely missed that I walk around in a miasma of loss.
That’s on one day, and it’s fine. It is inevitable that that feeling will come or go or both at once.
Today, I miss him but I’m digging into memories. With the memory the miasma lifts; I am not in that fog of missing-mourning-grieving that some days is paralyzing.
It will go, it will come. It’s fine. I have my memories. I know what I’ve lost, but I cherish what I had.
I was gifted a happiness that now makes me cry, tears of pain, tears of joy. It’s fine.
Depression
Too many losses this 4th of July. Burt is gone. The loss of him is so real, and permanent, and utterly devastating.
While Burt was ill, I saw- out of the corner of my eye- my country dying as well.
Since he’s been gone, I have been focused on a crumbling country.
That’s what this 4th of July feels like, a devastating loss.
I am doubly depressed today as the 4th approaches. Now, I would like to be able to concentrate my focus on my loss of Burt.
F**k $trump.
I’m sorry, Burt. I love you.
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 to live the rest of my life without Burt.
I know he’s not here, and I will go on without him.
It saddens me but I know I will go on. Without Burt. With Burt in my heart, in my memory; without Burt physically here. Burt’s here. Burt will always be with me.
I still greet him when I come home from my day out and about.
I still, sometimes, tell him about my day.
I still, sometimes, share things from my day that I think he would have enjoyed, or found interesting.
Not always. Not everyday. I find the highlights.
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 – his recliner- was so identified as his that I refused to sit in it for a while. It was his chair.
The hospital bed is gone, and the rearranged furniture has the effect of taking the room out of his ownership.
The bedroom had definitely been Burt’s room. I stopped in to visit with him as soon as I came in from my outings, before I put down whatever I brought home.
The Burt who had inhabited our home was ill, he was impaired the last many years.
If the house doesn’t feel like it was Burt’s house, it’s because I had made it over. Really, I had to, to reclaim the better memories.
We are humble
This is not a brag
Caregiving carries with it a grand responsibility. Rather than make us grandiose, it humbles us.
One of my caregiver friends is as thrilled by the purple umbrella she gifted herself as a diva is by pearls, champagne and fancy chocolates. No diva, but a queen of caring.
My own experience has made me stronger but more pliable. I have become kinder and I judge less.
It’s not easy exercising patience now that Burt is no longer the prime customer for this precious personal mineral.
But I do. I choose the smooth ride of patience over a hot flash of anger. Most of the time. Burt has left me with this gift.
This is a good and great gift!
I found it!
My tendency to clear away clutter is anti-sentimental. I tend to remove the unworn from my closets.
It’s a slightly brutal approach. I am delighted that I didn’t dispose of all my unused keepsakes so cavaliarly.
We were- I can’t remember why- at the Met store in Rockefeller Center. Browsing.
Somehow, Burt managed to sneak this purchase past me. When he gave me the heart later, for my birthday, I think, I was totally surprised.
I am so glad I hadn’t purged this item from my jewelry box. Now I can wear it and carry its memory with me all the time.
