I've started and re-started this blog post five different times now. I've gone for a walk. I've made several cups of tea. I just can't seem to find the right words to convey the message I want to convey in this time of such uncertainty. I want to be a voice of calm and comfort. I want to be a voice of hope.
It's hard. My heart is heavy and my mind is anxious. I grieve with those who have already lost loved ones and my heart breaks for those anxiously awaiting positive news on the ones still sick and fighting. My spirit is with all the front-line medical staff — not only the doctors and nurses, but everyone involved in keeping the hospitals and health care channels open and running. Every one of you is important, and every one of you has our thanks and our gratitude.
But it can't stop there. To the workers at grocery stores, pharmacies, and restaurants, and the truckers — the police, the fire, the EMS — everyone. Every single one of you deserves our thanks and our gratitude. I know I've missed so many of you. Thank you. From all of us. Thank you.
These are scary times. And for most of us, unprecedented times. When this is over, some of us will return to our "regular" lives, maybe down a few bucks and a few pounds heavier, but some of us will be changed forever. For some of us, a piece of our hearts will be forever gone, lost in a tragedy that has no rhyme or reason.
I don't have all the answers. In fact, I have very few. I just have thoughts and ideas and feelings that come straight from my heart. I know this is hard. I've done my best through social media to try and be as positive and lighthearted as I can be, and I've been a little concerned that perhaps people were thinking I was being callous or not taking things seriously.
But I think people need to smile and laugh, even in times like this — I would go as far to say, especially in times like this. Existing in a constant state of darkness and high anxiety isn't good. It's not good for you, and it's not good for me.
I'm worried as hell. I'm worried not only about the virus itself, but also about the mental health of those who are anxious or who are stuck at home with no one to talk to but themselves — like I am. The loneliness is real. I'm missing my dad terribly now that I'm in the house alone all the time. It just reinforces the permanence of the loss.
I miss the playful bantering we'd be doing to help pass the time. I miss the sound of him purposely clanging his spoon on the side of his dish as he was eating, just to annoy me. The joking, the me annoying him and him pretending to be angry. It's the little things — the little daily things — that have morphed into a gigantic vessel of emptiness.
I love quiet. I love solitude. But right now, this is a quiet and a solitude that is so real and so deep and so encompassing I can feel it in the pit of my soul. And I know I'm not alone in feeling this. For me, I need to laugh. I think more than that, I NEED to make other people laugh — like my dad always, always laughed.
It's hard to explain the immense sense of joy I received seeing him smile and laugh, especially when he was sick and feeling down. I think we all need that right now. I think we all need a spirit boost and a good chuckle. So I will continue to do what I can to spread joy and laughter. I can't save your life, but maybe I can help save your sanity.
There's an old African proverb that goes like this: "However long the night, the dawn will break."
We have no idea how long this night will be. We have no idea when the dawn will break. But it will. And until then, we have to be extremely kind to ourselves and to others. And we have to have hope. No matter how dark things seem to be, we have to have hope. Hope that medicine will find a cure or a vaccine, hope that the people holding down the fort on the front lines can continue to do so, and hope that people will heed the warnings and stay safe — if not for their own sake, then for others.
Most of all, hope that when the dawn does break, we will emerge as a kinder, gentler society. A society that cares a hell of a lot more about each other than we do now. One that lends a hand without asking or expecting anything in return. One that doesn't define a person by their gender or the colour of their skin or the religion they choose to practice. One that actually lifts each other up instead of constantly tearing each other down. These are my hopes.
I'm going to leave you today with a passage from my first novel, Songs About Life. Even though it was written over ten years ago, I think this passage applies more than ever.
"All it takes is one seed. One green leaf. If a forest can regenerate itself, why can't we as human beings? We just need to find that one little seed, that one sign of life. Capture it. Nurture it. Give it hope."
Much love, peace, and good health to you all.
Stay safe!