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 was having a difficult time dealing with complexities.

He always liked bonds, and had invested in government paper at some point. Bonds offered a fixed income. I think that was part of the attraction. It was pretty easy work, too. Fixed income for a fixed amount for a fixed time.

With the recent turmoil on Wall Street, I can only be thankful to Burt for leaving me with some financial stability in chaotic times.

Just one more way in which Burt looked out for me. Today, a friend and neighbor said you kept him going. As she saw my eyes wellup, she added she knew He kept you going, too.

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 my smarts back.

I had never heard him speak like that but the cadences were very welcome to me. It was nice to see him, even 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, I feel my years more deeply.

Some of my newly prominent issues can be mitigated. I expect that a set of hearing aids and cataract surgery will help. Some exercises to address pain and stiffness in my knees can’t hurt either. A long overdue attempt at weight reduction might smooth some of the lugubrious slog of my movements as well.

At least that’s the plan, darling, I tell him and now you [dear reader] as well.

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. Quick as a whip.

Every conversation about Burt is such a good 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.

I have no illusion about being young anymore. My life without Burt moves with a different pace.

Little by little, I am starting to make doing and going my style. It’s a tribute to me, my interests, and it’s a tribute to my life with Burt.