The distance

Every time I think I’m getting back to what feels like normal, the rug gets pulled. I suppose that’s the nature of 2020, as we’re all learning.

We found out last night that a kid in Emma’s class has tested positive for the coronavirus, apparently after going to a Halloween party. Compounding the problem, he got a negative test, returned to school and then, upon returning home, found out that there had been a mistake and he was positive after all. The class has been sent home and all the kids are now starting a 14-day quarantine. We’re still looking for answers from the health agency, but I can’t imagine this doesn’t mean we’re not entering quarantine as a family.

But that isn’t the true point of this post. I can’t say I’m not worried about the coronavirus, but there is the little part of me that thinks, worst case scenario, I die of the virus and then I get to see if Colin is waiting there in the afterlife. And, even as I type that, I realize full well that’s not the worst case scenario and I don’t even have it in me to write out the words to describe that scenario, but it does make me realize how skewed my perspective is on the world.

I wonder how long it will be – if ever – until I react to this kind of thing normally again. A friend sent me a rant of an email about crowds in stores and the closure of his church and, rationally, I can see it’s very upsetting to him. And yet, there’s this voice in my head asking “But your kids are all alive, so what on Earth do you have to complain about? You don’t like not going to church? Try spending a summer in a hospice watching your kid die drop by drop. You’re bummed out you can’t go to a restaurant? I was afraid every morning for three months that I would come upstairs to find my son dead, while also upset that he had to live another day like this.”

But even as I realize I can’t fully relate to other people’s worries in this crisis, I realize there’s no way for anyone to truly understand the hell that 2019 was for us and what kind of scars it probably left for us.

I do know I’m getting tired of keeping it in, and the election drama probably isn’t helping. People with whom I disagree on Facebook bring me to the edge of a rage storm. Your candidate didn’t win? You’ll live. I haven’t engaged with anyone for months and that’s probably for the best. But I find myself half inclined to track down people WITH WHOM I’VE AGREED I WON’T DISCUSS POLITICS TO SAVE OUR RELATIONSHIP and give them a good yell. It reaches the point where you wonder if it’s becoming more important for me to have a yell at someone than to maintain my friendships. Maybe I’d feel better at the end of it, but I wouldn’t have many friends either.

What I want is for someone to tell me about their problems and for me to genuinely be able to say “Wow. I’m so sorry for you.” I can manage the words. But in my head I’m still saying “You have no clue how good you have it.” I don’t much care for it, but I think I’m stuck with it.