Sadder

There will be days like these.. the line is from a rock n roll song. My mama said… it goes on… and it is only a caption, not the whole story.

More to the point, those of us who are mourning know that there will be bad days and better days. Sad days and better days or better days and sadder ones.

Second Avenue & 19th Street: formerly, Manhattan General

This soon after Burt passed, just two months and 2 weeks, I miss him so much and so often, that finding him as I did in the video is both a shock and a joy.

There was the letdown after the festival that was May 3rd. The celebration of life is in part a finality, and that’s sad. There is in fact no finality to celebrating Burt for me. I handed him his lifetime achievement award but I still cherish him for all of my achievements he has supported. I am better for knowing him.

The letdown is that feeling of deflation after you’ve been propped up by all your peeps; after you have been in great company; now, in the aftermath, you are alone to feel that he is gone.

The video is one way in which he is not go. In it, he speaks to all the idiosyncracies I loved in him. It’s a short 6 minutes but it encompasses that much.

I stopped at the site of Burt’s birth place; Manhattan General was a maternity hospital which Beth Israel acquired and converted into living spaces. We had gone by it once, serendipitously, many years ago. I took Burt’s picture with the plaque then. I took a picture of the plaque yesterday.

Ah, memories.

Artifacts

Recently when R and I were reminiscing about Burt, she said that when she started working with him, he always sat in front of the TV, planning shows for us to watch.

He had been doing something like this for a long time.

Before Lewy, he picked out our evening’s entertainment from the FIOS guide and we would enjoy a couple of hours later in the day. By the time R came aboard, he’d make his picks but we seldom viewed them.

My treasure trove from these days is just the first page of a notebook. It’s covered with his selections from “Today” the 10th through Wed the 23rd. They were in slots from 8pm to 10pm. It could have been in late 2023 when R first joined us or 2024. Seeing his handwriting is my big find for the day.

This find was not as spectacular as the video. In the video, Burt is eating his cake and drinking his latte in the breakroom of the rehab.

He finds the latte too much so he wants to share the drink from now on. He suggests a cappucino because, although he likes lattes, I prefer a cappucino.

He also must have offended the CNAs in some way, because he reminds me of his apologies to the staff. He always wanted to patch things up!

By the way

It dawned on me as I described someone as “yes, Burt loved him” that I had said that or something like about alot of the people we met or knew.

Burt found many friends over the years, especially as he slipped into dementia. He liked people and this came back in a kind of karmic circle.

My raingear did not stand up to the rain this afternoon. Coming home, I was soaked through.

Burt would have ordered me to take a warm shower as soon as I walked in the door. Good advice.

A great find

Noodling around my video cache, I found a 6 minute video in which Burton is speaking.

We are  snacking at the rehab. It’s dated April 2023. He is sweet and really enjoying his sweets.

Among the dialog is his request I bring one cappucino instead of the latte. I say “But you like latte.” Burt gesturing as he speaks: “There’s two people involved here.”

Tears of happiness at finding this short treasure. I am thrilled.

A small sample

May I suggest to those of you still caring that you take some videos when you can. It’s a little past two months since Burt passed and this is a treasure and a huge gift. Hearing his conversation for that 6 minutes was such a balm.

Some stories

Burt’s journey has ended. My journey continues without him. Or perhaps by dint of remembrance, with him, just kind of looking out for me.

Burt’s Saratoga antique shop find

Like he always did.

Part of my portmanteau now is recording what was. Both the orts and the epic.

I know my friends expected me to tell tales of Burt at the party of celebration on the 3rd. I could have but I am not great at the extemporé story. Fortunately, there are frequent triggers.

At Saturday’s celebration, I was privileged to have my memory shaken by hearing some of the remembrances of others; by a tribute to Burt from one of my besties whose help when things were muddiest is always at top of mind; by the presence of new friends and old, of neighbors.

For instance, I had forgotten how often Burt came to pick me up from the gym until our friend MS said she met him in the lobby so often that she was sure he had a membership.

Another friend came home with me from the party; she got to hear that May 3rd, 1992 was as warm a Saturday as the one this year.

She also got to hear about the little horse, a Saratoga souvenir Burt bought for me. And on the day of the Kentucky Derby!

Hey, a horserace is a horserace.

Speaking of horse racing or riding, SW told me a story I had not heard.

She said she was decked out in a new outfit, featuring a pair of rhinestoned boots and feeling all fashion-plate. Burt, who, make no mistake, adored her, blurted “Are you going horseback riding?”

I have to admit that the lack of filter didn’t just come with dementia. Burt aligned blurting with honesty. His form of transparent affection, perhaps?

Burt’s friends in the room at our party knew him at different stages in his story. I think they were able to share how, where and when they met him. And as my friend L said retell some of Burt’s “pearls of wisdom;” she had appreciated.

For May 3rd: games

And ice breakers

The party for Burt on our 35th anniversary was a treat. There was so much loving energy in that room that we all knew he was there.

My thanks to M for her lovely tribute to Burt and me.

It was unnecessary but I had prepared a little ice breaker based on the Burt approach.

He made friends in our building both before Lewy and after Lewy. Many of them were there for this celebration.

Before, [probably before], he would ask you if he met you in the hall: “Do you live here? What do you do?”

After Lewy, he would invite new neighbors over to my surprise and dismay. The dismay, mind you, not over having company in but over my being unprepared to hostess.

We’re going to try his approach to get to know each other now, I announced. Ask and Invite is the getting to know you game I asked our friends to play in Burt’s memory.

By the time I introduced this plan to the beautiful crowd gathered for him, it was clear everyone was already practiced in it. The room buzzed with conversation.

Just the kind of party made for Burt: people and food. I want to thank all the people who joined us on this special day. [And to those who were, like Burt, there in spirit.]

The food, prepared by the folks at the pizza parlor ristorante was excellent. And abundant. I chose the spot for its convenience [to me]; it’s up the block. Dress and walk over.

Italian Village also comes with this memory: Thrilled by his 84th surprise birthday party [2023], which was at home, Burt wanted to treat me for lunch the next day.

He used to go to Italian Village with his aides a few years back so Italian Village was where he was taking me. Close as it is, those 2 long avenues were a punishingly hard walk for him with his walker.

The sort of thing only a fool such as I find credible– opened this fortune cookie the morning of our celebration of Burt

We sat in this back room where we now held a remembrance for him. He ordered scrambled eggs and french fries and ate only a little of whatever came.

Over the years, we had shared many meals at restaurants throughout the city. We didn’t go out often once he was ill, maybe just three times in all. Always at Burt’s urging. And it was here at Italian Village that we shared our last restaurant meal.

Well, not quite last, if we acknowledge as we do that Burt was there and we had a hell of a party. In his honor.

Bluey redux

Several children were delighted by my wearing my Bluey t-shirt today. There was also one father, a friend who had a picture of his tyke with the characters on his phone, who was pleased by my choice of attire. We agreed that Bluey was the best father.

When I first discovered the iconic cartoon I decided it was perfect fare for Burt and me. Nice color, quiet talk, a gentle vibe made it attractive.

I persisted with it even as Burt was likely beginning to bore. It was an example of my pushing the agenda. Just a little.

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