I have another blog.
I have OTHER blogs, truth be told.
Some are public and some are private.
I am more than just THIS space.
Your zinfandel eyes
Your darkest alcove
My red chucks
My craziest bed-head
My craziest
Your darkest
Us
We began
and
We ended
Do you cry too?
April 17, 2020
April 7, 2020
Sometime in April, 2020
A month ago I went out to dinner with the man I loved; the man who loved me back. We ate at a Thai restaurant and he took a picture of me and said, "My heart is so full!" We were just 6 weeks past a discussion about marriage; a discussion we'd had more than once over the past 2 years... and that date was the last time I remember feeling loved, and in love, with that precious man. Corona Virus, or Covid 19, happened in real time, just days later.
We were already semi-aware of Corona Virus, but more as an encroaching threat, a thing for the future, and even though I worked in health care it wasn't yet a front line fear; and so we went out and had dinner and made love, and promises, and had hopes and dreams. That was then... this is now.
Today I left work, at a major hospital in a major city on the east coast, and I cried all the way home. No, that's not right, because I didn't just cry, I wailed. I screamed into the universe of my small empty car. Alone. I prayed, loudly and from my very soul. I cried out to God, who I felt distanced from in this moment, for myself, for my coworkers, for my friends, my family, for my neighbors, my community (and my online community)... for my children. It's how I've spent every day for the past month - in absolute agony and fear and grief, and also all alone. I am not scared. I am terrified. I am 50 years old and healthy and strong - but I am also alone and there are Covid 19 victims younger than me, at a rapidly increasing rate - right in my own hospital - on the very floor I work on - and I am full up of fear.
I am afraid of dying alone; not of dying, I want to be clear on that - but of dying alone. I am afraid of leaving my children alone. I am afraid that one of my own children could die and I am NOT strong enough to withstand that, I know this, not alone. I am afraid that the two brothers I have left on this earth as true family, could die - WOULD die in fact, if they contracted Covid 19. And I would be alone to navigate that grief. I am afraid of losing my remaining aunties and uncle, my few cousins, my rare and true soul-mate friends who are in the high risk category (which is changing and encompassing younger and healthier people daily). What will I do without my big brother Ricky? Without my friends Karen or Golden? What will my kids do, without me, or me without them? How will I die alone without a true love to hold my hand and see me off into heaven?
As my LEAST favorite cliche says, "It is, what it is..." Oh how I hate that cliche.
All I can do is live in THIS moment - and that is really the problem. THIS moment is full of fear, and stress, and emptiness. I told a friend today that in my loss and grief I was returning to the faith that had seen me through so many other losses, and that I so very much wished she had the same comfort. As much as that is true, I am still just one small human being, and I wish so much that the man I loved one month ago, who loved me back, was still available in this moment. As awesome and mighty as my God is, as my faith is, as my belief is, it isn't a human form that can hold me after a long day with sick and hurting people that I can't fix, a long day with scared and stressed nurses who can't fix their patients, a long day listening to administrative orders and knowing it's not saving lives but saving money. I need to be held and there is no one to hold me.
I can't find the balance right now.
We were already semi-aware of Corona Virus, but more as an encroaching threat, a thing for the future, and even though I worked in health care it wasn't yet a front line fear; and so we went out and had dinner and made love, and promises, and had hopes and dreams. That was then... this is now.
Today I left work, at a major hospital in a major city on the east coast, and I cried all the way home. No, that's not right, because I didn't just cry, I wailed. I screamed into the universe of my small empty car. Alone. I prayed, loudly and from my very soul. I cried out to God, who I felt distanced from in this moment, for myself, for my coworkers, for my friends, my family, for my neighbors, my community (and my online community)... for my children. It's how I've spent every day for the past month - in absolute agony and fear and grief, and also all alone. I am not scared. I am terrified. I am 50 years old and healthy and strong - but I am also alone and there are Covid 19 victims younger than me, at a rapidly increasing rate - right in my own hospital - on the very floor I work on - and I am full up of fear.
I am afraid of dying alone; not of dying, I want to be clear on that - but of dying alone. I am afraid of leaving my children alone. I am afraid that one of my own children could die and I am NOT strong enough to withstand that, I know this, not alone. I am afraid that the two brothers I have left on this earth as true family, could die - WOULD die in fact, if they contracted Covid 19. And I would be alone to navigate that grief. I am afraid of losing my remaining aunties and uncle, my few cousins, my rare and true soul-mate friends who are in the high risk category (which is changing and encompassing younger and healthier people daily). What will I do without my big brother Ricky? Without my friends Karen or Golden? What will my kids do, without me, or me without them? How will I die alone without a true love to hold my hand and see me off into heaven?
As my LEAST favorite cliche says, "It is, what it is..." Oh how I hate that cliche.
All I can do is live in THIS moment - and that is really the problem. THIS moment is full of fear, and stress, and emptiness. I told a friend today that in my loss and grief I was returning to the faith that had seen me through so many other losses, and that I so very much wished she had the same comfort. As much as that is true, I am still just one small human being, and I wish so much that the man I loved one month ago, who loved me back, was still available in this moment. As awesome and mighty as my God is, as my faith is, as my belief is, it isn't a human form that can hold me after a long day with sick and hurting people that I can't fix, a long day with scared and stressed nurses who can't fix their patients, a long day listening to administrative orders and knowing it's not saving lives but saving money. I need to be held and there is no one to hold me.
I can't find the balance right now.
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