It’s been five years since my late husband began his rapid decline from liver cancer. At this point, he refused hospice care, deciding he’d live at home and distance himself from everyone so no one would know he was getting weaker. I’ve told that story.
This is about now. In the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic, my kids and I are staying home. I’m not risking our health. My worst nightmare is orphaning my children. Even though I have my will updated, I’m not taking any chances, especially while the number of cases keeps increasing.
My younger daughter has online school (there’s a reason I never homeschooled). My older daughter is a huge help. As a family of introverts, we’re pretty happy about being at home. The only concern is getting enough milk delivered from any of the grocery stores. There’s milk rationing going on here.
Yesterday, I had a horrible moment about what things here would look like if I weren’t a widow. It wasn’t good.
The thought of being in this kind of quarantine situation when my late husband was alive and even healthy… Absolutely horrifying to think about. I almost had a panic attack, but I talked myself out of it.
In reality, my life is peaceful and happy and filled with love from and for the people who matter most to me. My children and I have amazing relationships–we talk about feelings, correct each other gently for crossing boundaries, and have mutual respect for one another. My boyfriend has shown my what unconditional love really looks like in partnership. We laugh a lot. My household is a happy, funny, laughing place.
And I’m grateful.
Stay home, please.