It’s been over a month since my last post.
Covid 19 (the Coronavirus) had just kind of started and it really took a bit of a toll on my mental health as it escalated quickly.
We’ve been home now for a month, my husband included, and the novelty has worn off. There were ups and downs, a roller coaster of emotions for us all, but now we’ve settled into a new kind of normal.
And then this past weekend, an unbelievable tragedy happened back home in Nova Scotia.
Twenty-three people (and counting) lost their lives.
23.
Twenty-three families will never hug their loved ones again.
They will never get to say I love you, or hear I love you from their lost loved one(s).
Couples.
Parents.
Children.
Siblings.
Best friends.
Life long friends.
Coworkers.
An unborn baby.
So many people gone.
A teacher, a nurse, an RCMP officer and so many more, all equally loved.
The entire province at a loss.
No words are enough.
The entire country sad.
The entire country pulling together to share their condolences, their thoughts and their prayers.
Lighting candles, putting on porch lights, displaying Nova Scotia Tartan.
Anything and everything they can do to show their love and support to people they’ve never met.
It’s sad and beautiful at the same time.
Tonight I joined in the 8:30pm two minutes of silence, outside with the candle that reminds me most of home, my art from a friend back home, and my outdoor hammock lights.
And I thought.
I thought about all of the goodnight kisses a parent might have been too frustrated to give after a long day. And now they will never get to give.
I thought about all of the anger and frustration that might have happened with a partner, the kind that goes on too long and nobody talks about so it just becomes a part of the relationship. And now it can’t be fixed.
Or those who might have had a fight and now that’s the last conversation ever had. Words you can’t take back.
I thought about all of the missed opportunities to make amends.
To talk things out.
To make things right.
To give one more hug, or one more bedtime story, or one more “thank you”.
I thought about all of the times those left behind will want to call and talk to their person.
And then that moment when they realize they can’t.
I thought about all of the things that were going to be missed.
First steps.
First grandchildren.
First girlfriends/boyfriends.
Graduations.
Birthdays.
Christmases.
There is so much.
Too much.
Things that we do every day.
Things we take for granted that we’ll have more of.
More hugs.
More kisses.
More stories.
More laughter.
More time.
More opportunity.
More chances.
Just… more.
I want to be a beacon of light. I want to say something supportive and inspiring and wonderful… and I just can’t.
I just don’t know how.
And I also know that there is nothing that can be said.
When you lose someone you love, there is no “right thing” anyone can say to you.
No advice that actually helps.
No magic words.
Nothing takes the pain away, you just need to go through it.
And it saddens me that I know this and they still need to learn it.
I hope they can take some comfort in knowing that their loss is felt immensely throughout Canada. Throughout North America, even.
We can’t make it better.
We have no words.
We can only send love, strength, hope and faith.
And we do.
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