First off, let me just say: I am not sick. Nor have I gotten sick. Nor has my spouse. Or my dog, lol.
But a lot of people have. As of today, over 10 million people in the US have had the disease, and almost 250k people have died from it. Even if you love conspiracies and are like, “that’s not true, only 50,000 people have died from it!” or whatever number you’re throwing around—it doesn’t change the logic. Because those lives were still important. They were still somebody’s child, somebody’s parent, somebody’s grandparent. And there are a lot of them.
Remember 9/11? Less than 3,000 people died then. And we launched a war against the people who caused it. 250k dead from covid, and people are still arguing about wearing a mask.
At any rate, Josh and I have been locked down pretty much this whole time. I go grocery shopping once every 3 - 5 weeks, and he is working from home. We rarely even go out for our sanctioned outdoor exercise, because here in the city, so many people are out in the parks it’s incredibly stressful, and most don’t wear masks. We even bought a mini-freezer so we can store more food in the house, and thus have to go out less often.
During the point of the pandemic during which there was a decreasing number of cases, I went walking with a friend, and he went golfing twice. We also visited his parents for a few weeks in NH during the summer, doing a full two-week quarantine before and after.
We now own about 10 masks between us. I should probably get some more.
I have to say, rolling into 2020 was not great. But this was certainly not how I expected it to be.
I’m not entirely sure what I want to say on this topic, but I have spent a lot of time thinking about it, so I wanted to write it down.
I think the short version of the story is this: I’m sad.
I’m really, really sad.
I don’t even know anyone personally who has died, but when I think about all of the people who are gone, and all of the people who are still alive who loved them, it makes me so, so sad.
When I think about those who don’t think the virus is real, it also makes me sad. And a little angry. But mostly sad. Because those who don’t respect the mask and social distancing guidelines are putting themselves and their own families at risk, along with everyone else they come into contact with. And the main argument is “my personal freedom, though!”—which basically implies that an individual would rather risk spreading a deadly disease than give up their own “personal freedom.” Meaning that they have little to no concern for the lives, health, or safety of those around them. I do know there are those who struggle to wear a mask because of anxiety and other reasons, but if everyone ELSE wore a mask, then those individuals could have the flexibility to address their needs, as opposed to having to worry about catching the disease from everyone around them.
Last year, my grandmother died. She was old, and had Alzheimer’s. We were not surprised by her passing. But I was fortunate enough to be there with her when she left, holding her hand and loving her with my whole heart.
But when a person has covid, they die alone.
If the pandemic had begun only a few months earlier, I would not have been able to be there with my grandmother when she passed from this world into the next.
I experienced a great amount of pain when she died. And I can only imagine how much more pain there would have been if she’d had to die alone.
I know that our world is confusing and messy and terrible. Everyone is stressed. Everyone is upset and miserable, for wide ranging reasons.
But it hurts so much to think of all the grandparents and parents and children and siblings and friends who have died alone from all of this. And I have no idea what comes after we die, if anything at all. But this amount of pain, all the pain that is rolling off of each one of us—it has to go somewhere.
When I was in college, the student body president, Eve Carson, was murdered as part of a gang initiation. It was awful. The day after we found out, it was like this fog had settled down over the entire campus. There were no smiles. There was no laughter. Everyone was in shock.
But that moment was nothing compared to the moment that we are in now, and that fog was nothing compared to the fog we are in now. And this moment isn’t going to end when the pandemic ends. This moment is going to live on. The cloud that has settled over us, the darkness, and the pain—we will carry this with us for the rest of our lives. And we will share it with our children. And their children.
There is going to be a lot more pain before this is over.
I have no solutions. I have no pithy platitudes.
I can only hope that we will endure.
