I think it was good to get away on vacation and away from a job where I sit and read news stories eight hours a day, especially since, nowadays, the bulk of the stories are about this damned virus. It was nice, for four weeks, to barely think about the virus and it was jarring to come back to the job and go straight back to virus, virus, virus. I can tell that I’m already getting more nervous and worried about the health of me and my children. And I don’t think it’s unwarranted to think about the ramifications of this disease, but it’s a big step from being aware about it to reading about it almost non-stop.
And it feels like it’s getting closer. A kid in my neighborhood had to come home from a summer camp because a bunch of kids there suddenly came down with fevers and coughs. And suddenly, here it is, right on my street (maybe).
Today, the kid’s Mom came by and said they were running to the clinic for the test. But it wasn’t practical to take the kids younger sibling along to the clinic and this kid, understandably, wasn’t wild about sitting home alone for an hour or so. Also, understandably, it’s not a great idea to call grandma or grandpa in for such a situation.
So, would I mind keeping half an eye on the child. The kid was old enough to keep busy in the backyard and Emma and Noah were prepared to play host in a socially distanced and safe manner (as in, playing badminton while face-masked).
But that’s not the part I minded. I think, as I listened to my neighbor’s request, with an hour left on my shift, my main thought was that there was no way this could work because this kid was Colin’s age and there was no way Colin would ever play quietly outside for an hour while I worked. How was this going to work.
Except, this kid wasn’t Colin’s age. This kid is older than Colin will ever be. This kid starts first grade in a few weeks. Even when Colin was around, there’s a decent change they weren’t mentally the same age, since we were all pretty sure Colin got stuck around 3 years old mentally for a lot of his life. This was not the same as watching Colin because Colin is stuck at this point in amber in my mind while all the other kids on the street are growing up and advancing towards adulthood.
I’m not saying I froze. I’m not saying I had an attack. I’m not saying I had a moment. I’m just so tired of the way this grief sneaks up on you from the side and says “You’re not having daily crying jags about your son’s death? Well, try and see how this feels.” Because even if I wake up every day and think about every eventuality that could get me down and brace for it, there’s always one angle I haven’t thought about just waiting to stick me between the eyes and say “Your kid is dead. That must suck.”
I’m so tired of it. I’m so tired of my son being dead and I’m so tired of knowing that millions might still die before we get this virus under control … and there are no guarantees that me, my wife and my children won’t be among those millions. I witnessed an argument about Portland online today that, essentially, degenerated into one side asking why there wasn’t more sympathy for the injured protesters and the other asking why there wasn’t more sympathy for the injured policemen. And all I can say is that I’m pretty tired of anyone getting hurt, for whatever reason.
So, here’s hoping the neighbor’s kid just had a cough. And here’s hoping this other guy I know whose girlfriend has a cough finds out that she just has a cough. Let’s just hope for a while. I think it will feel better than the alternative.