An Imperfect Christian Mom's COVID-19 Diary #5

 

This has been a trying week. Last Thursday (April 16), when we FaceTimed my father-in-law, I noticed a change in him. He wasn't talking much and appeared confused. Since he mentioned to me the previous week he always seemed hungry, I thought he might be hypoglycemic. So, I contacted the Soldiers' Home.

The next day, my brother-in-law FaceTimed him and told me he seemed the same--said a word or two, but not communicating (out of it). I called the Soldiers' Home again. On Saturday, I had a long conversation with the person covering for the doctor. All his vitals were good and he was eating breakfast, but they would test him again for COVID-19 as a precaution. I felt a glimmer of hope that he just experienced a bad day or two.

As we sat down to Easter dinner Sunday afternoon (we celebrate Orthodox Easter too), we received the dreaded phone call no family wants--he is in distress. They could keep him comfortable at the Soldiers' Home or send him to the hospital. We opted for the hospital.

After not much sleep Sunday night, the phone rang Monday morning. The message held more bad news. If we wanted to see Harry, we better come now.

The man I have always joked has nine lives, left us Monday night. Having now seen how dreadful this virus is and how it ravages the body in ways I couldn't imagine, it reinforces my decision to isolate ourselves as much as possible.

We are devastated at the unexpected loss of a man who meant the world to us. To add to our grief, we couldn't invite family or friends to share in today's funeral service. A man who was so well-loved deserved better. That room would have been filled with people under normal circumstances.

I'm tired of navigating this new normal. I couldn't even hug my mother-in-law today, because now that it has been confirmed Harry died of COVID-19, my husband and I have been exposed. Though totally suited up in all kinds of PPE when we visited him in the hospital, we must protect our loved ones. I wouldn't give up that short time we had with Harry before he passed, but I don't even want to go out to the grocery store or pick up take out for the next 14 days.

When we picked up Harry's belongings from the Soldiers' Home yesterday, we got a bunch of boxes of stuff packed up by the National Guard. We had to sift through those belongings and sign some form stating we had everything. Do we really? I don't know. It seems ridiculous they wanted me to riffle through the belongings of a man who had the virus. But, it's nice of them to give you some silly piece of paper telling you how to handle that possibly contaminated stuff once you get it home (don't think they need more liability right now).

My father-in-law was the 63rd resident of the Soldiers' Home in Holyoke to die of COVID-19. As of today, that number is up to 73. When will it end?

The only way in which I can process this loss of life is to know that these veterans are no longer held hostage by the confines of an earthly body. There is no more sorrow and no more pain for them. The Parkinson's disease that left Harry unable to walk or write and impacted his ability to speak no longer plagues him. He is free from the pain of arthritis. He celebrates now with his father and mother and other friends and family who have gone before him. And, I am confident we will meet again one day.


“Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.” - John 14:1-3

Heart in the Sand: A Valentine's Day Story by Cheryl C. Malandrinos

Heart in the Sand

by Cheryl C. Malandrinos

I tossed the ragged clam shell into the water and inspected my work. Satisfied, I slogged toward a bamboo mat a few yards away and plopped down. Leaning back on my hands, I tilted my head and breathed in the smell of the Atlantic.

The sun slunk to meet the horizon and cool ocean breezes caressed my cheeks. The Outer Banks of North Carolina always was our favorite spot. It didn’t matter where we stayed--Kill Devil Hills, Nags Head or Kittyhawk--this part of the Atlantic Seaboard begged for a visit at least once a year. 

It seemed fitting to return despite losing him. I fumbled through my beach bag for my journal and pen. I wanted to remember what it felt like to be here without him for the very first time.

August 15, 2010

The ocean is just as beautiful as we remembered. The undulating waves crash down into the sand and wipe away the footprints of young lovers walking hand in hand along the shore. During the day, the sun is a fiery inferno melting us. By eventide, the orange sun is dulled by the majestic purple sky with its slivers of clouds, and a slight fog comes off the water. The seagulls screech all day as if they hadn’t stuffed their bills with unsuspecting ocean creatures and crumbs of bread tossed by tourists.

Do you remember how many young families we saw last year? Was it fifty? Looks like it doubled. What a difference a year makes. Who am I kidding? Sometimes even a few months makes a difference. 

I wish I knew you were going to leave me that day. There are so many things I hoped to say before we parted. I love you would be the first. I feel lucky to be your wife might be next. Thank you for filling my life with joy and happiness. Thanks for sticking by me when times were rough. 

We raised three wonderful kids. They are a living testament to the love we share. They are adjusting to you being gone, but they worry about me too much. Did you know they actually forbade me to come this year? Who did they think they were talking to? As soon as they told me not to go, I jumped online and bought the plane ticket. Someone once told me that my head was so hard it could crack a diamond. I'm sure that wasn't you. They have called every day since I arrived to tell me how inconsiderate I am. Is it bad that I chuckle a bit inside? 

Maybe I should say it was so much fun seeing you as a Papou. The little ones loved their Yia-Yia, but they adored you. You always had a special way with kids. Remember when five-year-old Janie got sick all over the carpet in the wee hours of the morning? You changed her and rocked her until she drifted off to sleep. I wish they had more time with you. 

I could go on and on, but you know you were my world for forty years. I'll cherish our time together until we see one another again.  

When you told me you rented the big house in Nags Head with the wall of windows looking out over the ocean, I almost fainted. We never spent that much money on a rental before. It was the second best Valentine’s Day gift I ever got. Your love will always be the first. Each morning I step out the back door and our beautiful Atlantic is only fifty feet away. I wish you were here to share it with me. It isn’t the same without you, but I felt I owed it to you to come.

I never was much of an artist, and my sand castles still collapse, but I etched this heart in the sand to let you know I think of you every day. I hope you can see it as you look down from heaven. I miss you.

All my love,

Vivian

Copyright Cheryl C. Malandrinos - All Rights Reserved.