THE HARDEST PART

Almost every morning, after I get my coffee and find my seat in front of the 'staring window' of our living room -- the big window on the world and our busy bird feeders -- I sit in the silence of my home and feel my heart break.  Almost every morning the pain of that broken heart moves me to tears.

Love and grief are two sides of the same coin, they say.  You cannot grieve if you have not loved. And loving will inevitably lead, one day, to grief.

I've been thinking of this pandemic, now having spanned winter, into spring, into summer, and have wondered out loud to myself and others, "What's the hardest part?"  For many in my age group it's  the loss of routine, the loss of freedom to go and do as "normal", the long days of at home-ness where one day follows the next in a kind of monotony; the alone-ness.

I am not bored; I am not even alone. Hub and I have cocooned companionably together.  We have mastered Zoom to stay in touch with friends and go to meetings and both have enough interests and curiosity to keep us occupied and stimulated.  We like our simple routines; we like quiet; we like our home and the gardens.  We are mainly content.

So, the hardest part?  For me it is the disconnect from family: my sons, their wives, my two granddaughters.   We have stayed in touch on Zoom, at times unsatisfactorily, especially early on when everyone was shellshocked and stressed.  I have screen shots of some pretty sad and exhausted faces.  But it was better than nothing at all, so we persevered for several weekly meet-ups. 

Then I set up a FB Messenger Family Group which has been more successful, with almost all of us posting updates, photos, and items of interest as the spirit moves.  That's been fun.  On Messenger I did two months of an every morning post of "Mr. Bear's Stay at Home Adventures" for our 5 y/o granddaughter.  I didn't want her to forget our house or her favorite activities here, so I posed her big Teddy Bear in familiar settings doing familiar things and sent her a photo every day.  In response, my son sent a video of her replying to Mr. Bear.  It was a highlight of my day!  (I later created a paperback book of the 60+ Mr. Bear photos for her to keep.)

With the weather turning warmer, and the local cases of Covid flattening out, we've invited some or all of the family here in person for outdoor gatherings.  We physically distance; don't touch anything in common; keep the sanitizer handy.  Hub and I have prepared and served meals in our garden space, with individual tables set far apart.  It's been fun and A LOT of work -- hauling tables and chairs, figuring out the logistics of foods on each separate table -- we essentially set it up like a restaurant and we are the chefs and servers and clean up crew.  The distance from kitchen to yard is such that I get my 10,000 steps in by the time I'm done setting up and executing the event.  Last week we added cards and gifts for everyone -- we had Fathers Day, a daughter-in-law birthday, last day of school, last day of preschool, and a wedding to celebrate!

A wedding....yes.  Son Two and his beautiful fiance were married on May 9.  I can't believe I haven't written about it.  It's a sign of this time that a fog rolls in on what should be a bright day of joy, but ends up feeling unreal, shrouded, physically and emotionally distanced.  They had a big wedding for 250 guests planned with all the traditional bells and whistles. Then the shutdown came.  They agonized over what to do, with several scenarios swirling until, finally, they did all they could do:  they got married in their backyard with two witnesses, an officiant, and a photographer.  The two extended families attended via Zoom.  It took an age for the audio to work, then during the ceremony the screen kept freezing up.  But still, we got to see as best we could, if not really participate.  We are grateful it was a glorious sunshiny day for them.  I loved getting the professional photos -- absolutely lovely.  They rescheduled the big party/reception for later this summer, or if not, then maybe next spring -- there are no guarantees that it will happen; we don't know how long this pandemic will rage.  It is not what they wanted, not at all what any of us could have anticipated for this wedding 18 months in the planning, but they are wed.  They are happy.  And we are proud.

But none of this is how I want it to be.   I especially miss having my grandgirls here to hang out....so many times they would come for the day, or a sleepover.  At the family gathering I read a book (from 8 feet away) to our 5 y/o and she got tears in her eyes and said, "I want to hug you so bad!"  And I said the same, choking back my own tears.  Then I told her to wrap her arms around herself; I did the same.  And we pretended we were hugging each other.  I told her I hug her in my heart every day.  It was a bittersweet moment.   Our 10 y/o granddaughter is changing so fast I feel like I'm missing precious time with her before her interests turn more toward friends and my close relationship with her will take a back seat.  For awhile we Zoomed regularly, then it fell by the wayside as she got busy with online school, her best friend on Messenger Kids, and a new puppy.

As for my sons and their wives -- at first I sent them texts regularly, checking in, offering encouragement, support.  But I rarely heard much back and thought maybe I was hovering too much.  So I stopped doing that, making a declaration to myself on May 2 to back off.  I also moved them from my custom FB friend list where I think they might be overwhelmed with all my brilliant posting of current events, politics, inspirations, information, and selfies.   It just seemed like maybe I was trying to create something that was a one-sided desire, since I realized too many of my FB posts were clandestine messages to them and then I looked with hope for a "like" or a comment.  My god, embarrassing!

I don't mean to imply we are not close; we are.  When we are together it's wonderful and we have a great time. But when we are apart I'm still trying (too hard) to keep that connection going.  They, as it turns out, have full, busy, stressful, joyful, challenging lives that don't include daily outreach to Mom.

This has been the hardest part -- my longing for a closer connection, for more reciprocity from my 'kids'.   What I've grown to see even more clearly is that that longing comes from a perspective of ages and stages.  I know in my 69 year old bones how precious life is; how fragile; how fleeting.  That is the grief side of the coin. Because the love side is how deeply I cherish my family and wish for us to rush into a regular huddle hug, even via text.  But alas...

I was amused to hear the four 30-something "kids" talking about birthdays at our recent backyard dinner and a couple of them now being "mid-30's" and sort of already dreading the big 4-0.  They laughed about the new puppy and that if he lives his expected 15 years, they will be 50!!!...and how shocking that was to realize.  I offered that when I think 15 years ahead, I hope to still be alive. They looked a bit shocked at that.  They think we are here forever.  They think we all have all the time in the world.  We do not.

The hardest part?  That this virus has robbed us all of precious time together.  That this virus is deadly and to thwart it we must sacrifice irretrievable moments of deep connection, of sharing space together, of hugging not just with our hearts, but also with our arms.  That realization, every day, brings me to tears.  Then, I take a deep breath, find gratitude in health and so much more, and carry on.

At least, that's the view from here...©