It all started on September 11, 2001, or rather on September 12th. Because I didn't want the news to connected to that horrific day. Yet, somehow 18+ years later it feels like it is.
I took a pregnancy test.
It was positive.
On May 17, 2002 we welcomed Ashley into the world.
The beginning of a story. The beginning of dreams for our little person.
This week I (and everyone else reading this) am dealing with the loss of dreams. I dreamed about her last high school production. I dreamed about her walking down the Senior Fashion Show aisle. I dreamed about her receiving college acceptances (which should still come) and touring the schools (which won't likely happen).
Today the governor put in restrictions I never thought possible. We have a mandatory curfew from 8 pm to 5 am. Shops and restaurants are forced to close. Schools are closed until he deems it okay to open them. Already international airline travel has been curtailed. Events under 250 (now 50, maybe even less) have been cancelled, including my gala. Grocery store shelves (toilet paper and meat most noticeably) are empty.
As I mentally adjust to the new restrictions, more rules are being enacted.
Our beloved library is closing tonight at 7. On Saturday it was business as usual. On Sunday they started wearing gloves. On Monday they announced closing their doors for the foreseeable future.
The foreseeable future.
Social distancing.
Remote learning.
Flattening the curve.
When will it end?
I wonder if it really matters. What if we just let it naturally spike the numbers and all take our chances? Those worry stay home. The rest of us live our lives and make our memories.
If this was only a two week pause, I could handle it.
If I saw some sign of hope, like snow melting after a blizzard, I could handle it.
Instead we are all left with uncertainty at a time we should be celebrating. We are left wondering if the Disney trip, proms, graduation, and senior celebrations are next. On a greater scale, left wondering what businesses will fold. Left wondering how long before we recover as a world.
It is not fair.
Yet, as I read social media, I am not allowed to feel it is unfair. It is for the greater good, not just for me and our daughter.
We will never reclaim this time. We will never reclaim these milestones. It is a loss. I am allowed to grieve. I am allowed to wish we would redo this in May and June instead of in March and April. I am willing to send her to school through mid-August if it meant she could give her senior speech at the cast party that was cancelled last weekend. If it meant taking pictures at her prom. If it meant cheering for her and her friends at graduation. If it meant the Disney trip would still happen. If it meant we still had that last parent-teacher conference where I could thank your teachers for everything.
Instead uncertainty.
Instead fear.
Instead extra stress.
Instead hopelessness.
Any other two months and I would embrace the chance to slow down and embrace life with my family. Why now?
Instead I am mourning.
Instead I want to cry, but the tears are not coming.
Instead I want to hug someone until the tears flow, but social distancing prevents contact.
I am reminded of that pregnancy test and being happy for our future when the world was mourning and I was not able to fully be happy because others lost so much. Now I'm going through those same feelings again -- not allowed to be upset because it is for the "greater good."
So far I am taking this harder than Ashley, and definitely harder than Don. I recognize that, but I am still hurt. It will take me a while to recover.
I'd love some optimism that schools will reopen. That the Disney-theme parks will reopen. That the numbers decline. I'm just not feeling it right now.
Yes, it is certainly tumultuous. And worrisome. And sad to see so many plans come crashing down.
ReplyDeleteIt makes me realize that nothing in life is guaranteed except death. Thus, while we are normally busy with the things of this life, we must also be preparing ourselves for the next one.
I'm pleased to see that this virus seems to affect the youngest part of the population the least. They have much life ahead of them. For those of us who are on the other end of that spectrum, I can say for my part that I'm thankful for the years that I've had, and will accept any remaining years as a gift, not to be taken for granted.
Yes, I'm certain that the situation will get better eventually. But like previous wars and pandemics, we don't know exactly how long the eventually will be, nor who we may lose along the way.
Keep a diary. It may be a useful basis for future historians to understand what it was like to go thru this period.
And who knows what we might all learn from this? Perhaps that there more important things to fight in this world than our fellow human beings.
Thank you. I am glad to have met you both. My blog is my diary. So few people read it, and if someone gets comfort from knowing they are not the only person feeling this way, all the better.
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