Think about your most favorite person in the whole, wide world. If you are a parent, chances are pretty good that it’s one, if not all, of your kids. For arguments sake, let’s just assume it’s your child.
Best friends, you are. Inseparable. When they were born, it was as if your heart sprung out of your body and grew two little feet. Your world slipped off it’s axis and began to move in a different rotation. You cannot remember how your life was before they arrived.
Now, imagine yourself starting to feel lousy. Really tired. Aches and pains. Things didn’t smell or taste good. Breathing felt sharp, like needles in your lungs. You spend your days resting. Your little BFF is concerned because you can’t play with them like you used to. You tell them you are not feeling well, but promise that you will feel better soon, and you are going to make up for the playtime missed.
One day, you spend most of it in bed, because you are simply too tired to move. Dinner time rolls around, and your partner is making dinner. They send your BFF to wake you up because sick people especially need to eat. BFF goes to wake you up, only they can’t.
BFF goes back to the kitchen to report that you won’t wake up. Parent then rushes to your room to find that you are cold, unresponsive. They call a family member over to take BFF because a child should not have to witness what comes next. They call EMS next. The next events pass in a blur. Time moves very slowly and rapidly at the same time. EMS arrives. They try to revive you, but everyone knows that this attempt will be futile because it has been far too long. EMS loads you up and takes you away to the hospital. Your partner, who is the love of your life, the one you vowed to love until death do you part. The one you shared your DNA with and created the most beautiful creature you have ever laid eyes upon…they cannot come with you. They cannot be there for when the doctors say, “I’m sorry.” They cannot stand at your bedside and hold your hand and try to say good-bye, while trying to wrap their mind around the fact that you will not be coming home ever again.
Instead, you are taken to the ER, where you are pronounced dead. A phone call is made to your partner. You are placed in a thin, white plastic bag with a tag around your toe, bearing your name and birth date. Then, you are taken to a cool room, where you will remain until the funeral home your partner has to select comes to collect you. Because of Covid 19, you won’t get a funeral right away, and you will more than likely be cremated.
Meanwhile, your spouse has to pull themselves together. They call in their own family because this tremendous grief is both terrifying and too much to handle on their own. Your little BFF has been asking questions. Where is Daddy? When do I get to see Mommy again? Are they feeling better?
When your in-laws finally arrive (they have to come from out-of-state), only then is when your BFF is told the truth. They all gather together, your now-widowed spouse holding you BFF in their arms, and together the family delivers the most crushing blow to a child, in the most gentlest way possible.
Remember this, the next time you rage about how the Covid is a hoax. Or when you bleat about your rights being trampled on because you have to wear a mask to the grocery store. Or when you leer at people who are terrified of catching the virus, because deep down they know they would die if they did. Just imagine your family sitting down with your most favorite person in the whole wide world, and explaining to them:
You are gone.
You died.
You won’t be coming back.
You never got to say good-bye.
Wear your goddamn mask.
The Shiny Hook 