Day 110

I am at a loss. This pandemic is destroying my son. He is a different child than he was four months ago. I know, you have children, and you have recognized a change also. Kids need friends. They need to interact with others. Being with peers is a major part of their social development. But here’s why my son has suffered in ways your child hasn’t. This pandemic robbed him of his grandfather. A man who also fulfilled the role of father. He was my son’s confidant, my son’s hero. He was the person my son probably loved most in this world. So my son is not only shut up in his house unable to do anything he enjoys, he also mourning. But I’m learning, he isn’t like me. He doesn’t cry or talk about how he feels. He keeps it all locked inside until he gets upset and then his grief explodes out of him like an earthquake. Anger is festering inside of him and he lashes out at me and my spouse frequently. No, don’t tell me he needs therapy. I already know that, but therapists aren’t seeing anyone face-to-face, and I’ve already told you he hates all things virtual. So that is currently not an option. Also, in normal times, as I’ve stated previously, kids can escape their grief. They get to go to school and interact with friends. They have after school activities. They can do things they enjoy in places not intimately connected with their loss. In the time of Covid, that isn’t possible. Grief is suffocating my son, and there is no momentary escape from it. Even when we try to provide a sense normalcy, even when we try to provide him with something fun, he lashes out. 

We were supposed to be in Disney this week with Dad. When he planned the trip he called me daily making sure that my son would get to see and do everything he wanted. It started out as a seven day trip but by the time it was booked, we were going to stay in Florida for 10 days. Then Dad died, as did his dream of a fun filled family vacation. Not wanting my son to sit home all week brooding over what he didn’t have, what the pandemic had stolen from him, I suggested a camping trip. Disney it would not be, but something, I figured, had to be better than nothing. But I may have been wrong.

We planned to leave early Wednesday morning. My spouse made reservations at Raymond B. Winter State Park in Pennsylvania. It was more than a three hour drive and we hoped to get there early enough to set up and then go on a short hike. But our plans exploded when we told our son to jump in the shower. He had been working on a BB-8 lego set and the thought of setting it aside caused way too much strife. He accused us of caring only for ourselves, doing only what we wanted to do. All he wanted was to stay at home and complete the Lego set. His tantrum lasted more than an hour, and so we were delayed getting on the road. 

In the car, he was cranky, but by the time we arrived at the campsite he was in a better mood. He helped us set up the tent. However, it was too late to go for a hike, and I feared that if I even suggested it, he would have launched into another verbal attack. Instead, we stayed at the campsite and played Quiddler, a new card game we had picked up in Target earlier in the week. Instead of numbers, the game challenges players to spell words. It was a refreshing break from runs and straights. And we all had fun. My son was happy and smiling. 

After the rain last camping trip, my spouse bought a waterproof canopy. She didn’t ever want to be in a position — again — where we had to eat in the car if it rained. Having bought it, she was convinced that the weather would cooperate. “We have the canopy,” she said multiple times during the drive, “which means it’s not going to rain.” Since there was no rain in the forecast, we didn’t set up the canopy. My son wasn’t pleased. It was new. He wanted to try it out. He looked toward the sky and asked the clouds for rain. They complied. Half-way through our game, the sky suddenly grew very dark. We heard the rain lashing the foliage before we felt it. Immediately, my spouse ran down to the car and grabbed the canopy. I cleaned up the cards so they wouldn’t get wet. The sky opened, rained poured down. But the moment we got the canopy out, the rain stopped. The clouds cleared. The blue sky shimmered down through the trees We kept the canopy up and didn’t see another drop of rain the entire time we were there.

Yesterday, Thursday, my son and I went hiking. My spouse stayed behind at the campsite. The heat was oppressive, and she doesn’t do well in the heat. She begins to melt as soon as the thermometer climbs towards 79 degrees. Besides, she is still recovering from eye surgery so walking on uneven ground was probably not a good idea. My son informed me that he would only walk for an hour, maybe two. It was better than nothing, and I was happy to have the company, happy to spend time with him. I pushed him to go for a full two hours and he did so without complaint. In fact, he was very chatty talking about his favorite superhero — Wolverine — and the stories he wants to write someday.

After hiking he asked if he could go swimming in the lake. It was hot, so we let him, but it wasn’t that deep. And it wasn’t nearly as nice as Awosting — a lake we really like up in New York — so we didn’t stay long. Back at the campsite we played cards — Quiddler — and cooked dinner. I also practiced my round kick/side kick combination which I recently learned in taekwondo. It’s one of the moves I’ll need know this cycle. But doing it totally embarrassed my son. Apparently, practicing taekwondo is not something a mother should do in public.

This morning our plan was to go back to Pine Creek Gorge — the Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania — to go hiking. Yes, my spouse was so excited about it that she was prepared to brave the 90 degree weather. But as soon as my son heard that we had to sit in the car for an hour an a half to drive there and then another four hours home he launched into another round of complaints. He didn’t want to sit in the car that long. It wasn’t fair that we expected him to waste his time in the car when he could be home doing Legos. We did our best to ignore his tantrum, hoping that once we got there, once we started hiking, he’d have a good time and forget about the long car ride. But alas, my lousy luck struck once again. The trail we intended to hike was closed. We couldn’t hike down to the gorge. We couldn’t eat lunch near the waterfall. Once again my son fell to pieces. Life is miserable. He gets nothing that he wants. We had absolutely no control over this one. But with the way he was acting, we weren’t even going to search out another trail. We weren’t going to get in the car and drive elsewhere. We gave up the idea of hike, the one thing my spouse and I were really looking forward to, and came home. The drive, in the end, being exactly as my son predicted — a waste of time.