Our first son came into this world as we were mourning September 11, 2001. Life had changed in ways we never imagined.
I remember this overwhelming feeling looking at him in the hospital bassinet. How would I do this? How would I love him and protect him and make his childhood a happy one? How would I teach him to be a good person? How would I show him how to find happiness in this life? In that moment, it occurred that there might be worse things during his childhood. But it was still so unreal to me...we'd surely met our limit of bad things that could happen during a person's lifetime...the awful couldn't touch this beautiful baby boy again...I would see to it.
Then there was so much more loss and grief...so personal...so awful...that consumed our little family for what seemed like an eternity. And our boy learned to adapt...to things never imagined.
Things are out of our control...yet again. COVID-19...Novel Coronavirus...Global Pandemic...Quarantine...Schools Closed...Senior Year Over.
Not a damn thing I can do about it.
You'd think I'd be a pro at this by now. I should be able to acknowledge my lack of control and move on. Nobody (that we know) has died. There are people suffering with so much worse things during this mess.
And yet, there is still a part of my brain trying to find a way to "make it right" somehow. Like I can't let go of the idea that I can fix this. It's frustrating and infuriating and making me very sad...again.
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