This is usually the hardest week for me since losing our three-year-old son five years ago after a five-month battle with cancer. Last year, I took two weeks off work–hibernating and crying for most of that time–to let myself succumb to the grief and just feel the sadness.
This year is different. Our world is in crisis. We are all locked away in our homes, teaching our children, working remotely, and uncertain of what is yet to come.
For the first time since our angel went to Heaven, I feel relief that I know he is safe. His soul is at peace and he is not at risk for contracting a virus that surely would have taken his life, had he still been here. We grieve his physical body, and not seeing him grow to be, what I am sure would have been a lively, smart, and beautiful young boy.
But he is safe and my grief is on hold. Because this week, though it is the very week we lost him five years ago, we hold so much love and so much worry for those here on Earth as we endure a terrifying outbreak of illness.
Our parents are all at high risk, not only because of their age, but their immunity. In this time when all we want to do is hug them and tell them we love them, we are forced to be separate.
Our son on Earth is relying on us to guide him. I have never felt more ill-equipped to be a parent. But we have a plan and we have each other. And for our little family of three, we will persevere.
Because that is what we do. After spending three years in some form of isolation because of our son’s fragility, we know how to do this. We know how to live, just us, and we will rely on each other to get through the weeks, and days, and hours, together.
We made difficult decisions in the past to protect our son. And we are making difficult decisions now. With the guidance of elected officials and medical professionals, we will distance ourselves. Like the rest of the world, we will make the safety and health of ourselves and those around us, the top priority.
While our grief takes a back seat, we will pray, and talk to our angel. We will tell him every day how much we miss him, meanwhile we know he is with us. He is right here next to us, every minute, giving us strength to endure.
If there is anything I have learned as a parent surviving while grieving, it is that our angels are listening. They are with us every step of the way. Look for the signs, and keep speaking out loud. With their love and guidance, we will get through this.
Love and prayers to all of you who read this. We are in it together, for as long as it takes.