What's Painfully Missing

July 11, 2020

I would imagine that the year 2020 will certainly be one for the history books.

A pandemic, toilet paper hoarding, millions of people out of work and most recently massive protests in the world about racial injustices have lead the headlines for nearly six months now.

This is also a presidential election year in the US. The current president, Donald Trump will be running against Joe Biden.   Because of the Covid19 virus, this campaign will be the most unusual in modern history. 

The specific details of all of these things will most certainly be well documented, therefore I don't find it necessary to do that here.

What I can write about is how Ross and I have been coping.

We have experienced the personal loss and scary illnesses of loved ones.  Those have been tough.

Sitting here now, today, reflecting on the last six months, I would have to say, overall, we have managed well.  The most important thing is that we have not gotten ill.  Fingers crossed that we continue in good health.  I am still frightened about getting this virus.  I am especially concerned about me getting it because I need to be healthy for Ross.

One of the observances I have found most interesting is how we were able to adapt to this new small world we find ourselves in and how quickly we established a new routine.

We do miss having a meal out, which we would do a couple of times a week.

There have been times of depression, and upset.  We've been getting help with that.

At the start of the world seemingly ready to fall apart, Ross and I were glued to the TV, watching  wall to wall coverage.  That has changed.  We find other things to do instead.  For instance, sitting on our front porch, listening to the birds, watching the squirrels and rabbits scamper about is quite peaceful.

We've managed to see the ocean a couple of times and frequently ride by the Barnegat bay.  Seeing the water soothes our souls.

Every day we walk up to the corner and back.  (inside joke)

Up until a few weeks ago we had been ordering our groceries online.  Someone from the store wold bring the packages out to our car.  That is a great service. 
But now we are venturing out into the stores.  I am a little skittish about it, but try to be as careful as possible.

Facetime and phone calls have kept us somewhat connected.

New Jersey has been one of the hardest hit with the Corona Virus.
Now, restrictions are slowly being lifted.
As of yesterday, with safety measures in place, such as social distancing and mask wearing,  restaurants can serve, via outdoor dining.  Retail stores are open bound by limited capacity.
Next week hair salons and barber shops will open.
Yay! Today, the wonderful women who clean our home are back.  So grateful for them.

But spectacular sparkling bays and blue ocean waves,  melodious bird songs, cute bunnies and funny scampering squirrels and hundreds of miles walked to the corner and back pale in comparison to the hugs and kisses we are painfully missing.

A treasured past summer

How We're Doing

April 25, 2020

The last time we were in a store was nearly a month ago.  It was a trip to Shoprite.  We went on March 27.




Since then my daughter and son-in-law (they insisted) have been delivering groceries to us and in-between we have been doing pick-up's at our local butcher/deli shop.













The staying-in part of the Coronavirus pandemic has not driven me to the edge, yet.  Perhaps it's the introvert in me.  I can be with myself. 

I've been doing a lot of knitting and crocheting.

Don't get me wrong, I am grateful to have Ross here with me.
When I think about those who don't have someone with them, I wonder how it would be for me, if I were alone.  It's a scary thought.

What does get to me is the roller coaster emotional part of this.  It angers me.  It frightens me.  But mostly it saddens my heart.

Whenever I have faced tragedy in my life, I question the "why" of it.  Why tragedy and sadness and loneliness and sickness and even death.  Why?  It seems so evil.

This tragedy will not soon be forgotten.  It will be the one written about for ages.  We will remind the youngest, who may not have understood.  We will tell stories to the not yet born all about it.  For the rest of our lives, we will commiserate with each other and shake our puzzled heads.

And I will always wonder "why?"

Evie

She was the type of person who turned heads when she entered a room.  She had a sweet look about her, approachable, you know.  Her shiny dark hair grazed her shoulders and the curly ends bounced when she turned her head. 

Although it was a somber occasion for which we were all gathered, she had the unique ability to soften the tenseness in the room as well as the face of every person she interacted with.

I was seated in the back, an observer. Her voice was soft and melodic. I watched and listened as she made her way, stopping to say hello to those she knew, introducing herself to those she was meeting for the first time.  I saw that each person leaned in towards her when she spoke and I thought about her unique ability to persuade such consideration. 

She took her rightful place at the front, her back to me now, I felt her stillness as she quietly listened.

I had the opportunity to finally and properly meet her the next day.   It was a brisk wintery day.  She had been out for a walk.   When she came in, she was breathless and her face was rosy.

As she shed her coat, scarf and hat, she called out greetings to everyone. 

She made her way over to me. 

She didn't ask my name, but I must have seemed familiar to her.

"Hi," she said, with a smile. 

She told me that she had been on a treasure hunt on the path through the wooded area out back.
Standing in front of me now, her arms were at her side, her hands were tightly clutched. 
"I found two of these," she said with a giggle.   
She raised both hands out towards me and slowly opened each one.
"Aren't they beautiful," she asked?

"This one is special, it's my favorite and I would like you to have it."  she said.

She placed an oddly shaped stone in my palm.  It felt icy cold in my hand. 
I thanked her and told her I would always keep and treasure this treasure she gave me.
She smiled when I said that.

It was now time for me to leave.  I had a long ride ahead of me.  I said my goodbyes, and  gave her a little hug. 

As I walked out to the car with my hands in my pockets I knew I would never see her again.  I squeezed the cold stone tightly and it gave a bit of relief to my aging joints and comfort from a sad weekend.