I’ve already made my grieving more public than is seemly. I continue to mourn in writing as a heads up for those of you who may experience a similar circumstance. An unnecessary heads up, I admit. We all grieve differently. Also, we each face our grief differently at different times as we mourn. I feelContinue reading “This was our life”
Tag Archives: memories
Another one of our hangouts
It always struck me as an odd place for it, but there’s a hotel on 92nd off 1st. Burt and I often took a walk along the East River Esplanade. We would wind up in its lobby when got past Gracie Mansion. It was a pit stop. Now, I sometimes go into the lobby onContinue reading “Another one of our hangouts”
More in the memory dept.
As I leave lunch at Old John’s, I pass Merkin Hall and think Burt and I went there a few times. Of course we did. We went to just about every concert hall in town.
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 itContinue reading “Your story”
Going to the movies
It seems that Burt and I, having gone on our first date and with our second one scheduled for the Sunday, saw Pretty Woman on Saturday night, separately and at different movie theaters. I saw it with my friend M. Burt, as I recall went on his own. This memory of our early history cameContinue reading “Going to the movies”
Grief, grieving
Is it possible to turn grief into grievance? I accept that grieving has no timeline; I don’t want to shoo my grief away. In a way, it’s my grief that honors Burt. So what am I talking about? Is it the sense that long term grief is a kind of wallowing? Yes, that is partContinue reading “Grief, grieving”
We used to….
Times Square was often our jumping off point to nearby theaters, like, but not limited to, the Hayes below. My weekend took me to this part of the world where so many of the paths I took were filled with memories. Every memory came quickly to my attention, and then gave me a long momentContinue reading “We used to….”
Burt’s hands
When we were younger, Burt’s hand clasped firmly over mine was a source of pleasant comfort. My hands are small; when we were holding hands, Burt’s hand enveloped mine. Holding hands is a way that those in love signal belonging. Over these last years we spent together, I truly admired his hands. Burt had long,Continue reading “Burt’s hands”
Reminiscence
Sitting at dinner, we exchange remembrances of those we’ve lost. We find some comfort as we speak. I remember my mom. As we keep talking, I miss my cousin and her amazing sense of humor. “She was,” I say, “the funniest person I ever knew.” I speak of Burt, my friend talks of her mother.Continue reading “Reminiscence”
Going where we used to go
There is a reassurance in being bathed in happy memories. And, kind of, adding to them as I do with good friends. Here’s our beloved East Village, dinner was at Ukranian East Village Restaurant. Last night, I enjoyed a dinner (and reminiscences) with my good friend D.
this is our life 