HiProtein O’s

I am still in that crazy but comforting space where Burt is present.

While eating protein oats, I am wondering if only I had had Magic Spoon high protein o’s for him  could I have prolonged his life?

Then I wonder if he would benefit from that; would he want his life extended; would he want to continue with the pain. And then I wonder if he was in pain.

I answer my questions. I knew he suffered so many losses not just throughout his life but during / because of his dementia. He felt the loss when he asked after his parents. He was always asking me where his mother was; he’d say “where is my father, I haven’t seen him.”

He was also sure I was never there for him. Even when I was by his side, he did not know it was me; he often wanted to know “why didn’t you say hello?”

Was he in pain when he felt so alone; when he wondered where his wife was, where his love was.

He had so many losses and he was so lost. I think, no I’m sure
Burt had had enough and that it was his time.

The  protein oats would not be a magic spoon to save him. He was ready to be allowed to go.

My memories and my love keep his spirit with me. It was time to let him go.

At home on a rainy day

As I sit here writing, and reading, I have a strong feeling that Burt is present with me.

It’s the first time, since the time I thought I needed to go check on him.

That had happened just a few days after he passed. It’s been months now, nearly eight, and this is different.

Today, I sense his presence as I write; I think oh boy, I want to read this to you. It’s as if he were here.

When I look up, I speak to the photos of Burt sitting on the table, watching over me.

Your story

Memory fades. Not just yours, my dear which was strangely altered and crippled by the dementia with which you suffered.

Everyone’s.

It, like the hearing of which  couples complain, can be selective. Or just inaccurate.

It was a gift to me when you recounted so much of your life story to me. Some of it stayed so prevalent with you even as you lost other touchstones that I heard Burt’s life and times over and over again.

You used it to woo me, this woman you did not remember being your wife; these flirtations were eerie and oddly touching.

Later in the course of your illness, details became conflated or just fanciful.

I am so grateful, Burt, that you were such a vivid story teller. I am grateful that I carry and share those memories, your memories. They mingle with mine and there remains so much to remember.

October 2013

Burt was so angry over the 2013 government shutdown that he refused to ever vote again.

I disagreed with his conclusion, but understood the reasoning. He felt it was a huge disruption.

The ACA prompted the Rs to stop work for those 16 days. We seem to have a similar excuse– health care– this time around. I know it was bigger then and it’s certainly bigger now.

I shared Burt’s disappointment in such blatant dysfunction. I never let that disenfranchise me. Burt last vote was for Obama. Just as well, he would have taken the first term trump win personally and would have felt slighted had he gone to the polls in 2016.

Later, in 2020, after dx, before the Biden inauguration, he got to yell his answer to the dementia question “fucking Trump.” It amused the ER, but I question the use of Who’s the President as a way to determine cognition. Did he know the answer was Biden in later visits? I can’t recall.

Over troubling waters

via Photo Challenge: Bridge My local bridge always smelled of white bread baking when I was growing up and we came over it from Queens. In those days, it was just the 59th Street Bridge, now it’s named in honor of one of the city’s recent mayors, Ed Koch. The bakery on the Queens side […]

Over troubled waters

If you click on the link (as in a connection) you will see pictures of Burt and me from before.

There is a circuitous link to a book I wish I had read before for me.

Travelers to Unimaginable Lands was suggested by fellow carers while I was caring for Burt.

In it Dasha Kiper gives advice and sensible guidance that is very soothing.

She strikes at the commonality of experience during these journies of ours. If you are still caring for a p.w.d. this is a must-read. Well, there are no shoulds or musts, but you will find it of comfort. And, it’s not a long-read.

Travelers to Unimaginable Lands by Dasha Kiper is my book this week.

Yes, dear, I do

Do I miss you, darling?
You, of all people, know.
You know I miss you, 
And, even, I'll bet, how
Deeply I miss you. It is
Intense, this absence of
Yours. Yes, I miss you,
Dear. Yet, also, I live my
Life, a life different from
The one we shared, the
One I miss when I say 
I miss you, darling, so 
Much. I miss you, and I
Miss you and me, the 
We we were. Yet, I also
Live my life, one that's 
Different from the one
You and I, we shared.

I ran into…

Last week I ran into a friend who now owns a bar-restaurant that Burt and I frequented; we hug, she offering me condolences and saying now you’ll live your best
life. Then she’s telling me that Burt was a character. Hearing her assessment is a blessing.

That day, I also ran into a Social Worker I had consulted during the journey. She’s from a nearby community center where Burt had joined me for Caregiver Appreciation Days. After our meeting, and BTW, we exchanged hugs. I sent a photo of her with Burt from one of those events.

Seeing people who knew him feels so good. Burt still has this connection here, not just with me, but with our broader world.

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