Day 120

Dad died 90 days ago. Ninety days of misery. Ninety days of missing him. 

My son finished the New Jersey puzzle this morning. It is 1000 pieces and it took him three days to finish. He immediately started another 1000 piece puzzle that he found in Mom’s closet.

Every summer, since my son could read, my parents enrolled him in the Mattituck-Laurel Library summer reading program. They’d go — if possible — the day enrollment opened so that they could also sign him up for other events that happened throughout the summer, events that were often so popular they filled up quickly. The children’s librarians knew my parents well. Whenever we walked into the children’s section — and we were their frequently — my parents would chat with them. Dad often joked around like he did with everyone. 

This morning, my son and I drove to the library — Mom’s library card was in my wallet so that I could take out books and movies. I haven’t stepped foot in a library in months and it felt good to stop into a building full of reading material. The moment I stepped through the door, the staff instructed me to sign-in. Only ten people at a time are allowed inside. As my son walked over to the movies, I entered the children’s library, curious as to what new middle grade books they might have. Even with my mask on, the head children’s librarian recognized me immediately. She said, “We were just talking about you and wondering where your parents have been.” And so I told her that Dad died. She was shocked and sad and she told me how much she always enjoyed his visits, the way he would joke around with her and the rest of the staff. He was gregarious and funny and a pleasure to be around. It seems everyone loved Dad, or at least enjoyed his company.

The children’s library looked so empty, the space seemingly larger. But that’s because all the toys have been put away. Due to the virus, they don’t want to encourage anyone to linger. They want you to come in, select your books, and then leave. There were plexiglass windows around the librarian and the checkout counter. Everyone wore masks.

Mom spoke to my brother about a funeral mass for Dad. He told her that he has a brief semester break in October and that he recommended we have it then. I don’t think October is wise and I said as much. A second wave was expected in the fall. Although, since the first wave appears as if it will not be ending any time soon, this expected second wave will most likely be another peak. Besides, if schools open, I can’t imagine it won’t result in another surge. More people sick. More people — the smart people — staying home. Mom argued that the second wave wasn’t due until November so my brother felt October would be fine. I disagreed, but told Mom I’d support whatever she wanted. She seems convinced that no one will show up regardless of when it is. And since she already knows I will bend my schedule as I have since the morning I got the call to take Dad to the hospital, I’ll be there whenever she schedules it. My brother has proven that unlike me he won’t drop everything. He’s been very helpful to Mom. He’s done a great deal for her, but his arrival in Glendale is always based upon what works best for him. Therefore, my guess is Mom will have the funeral mass on the day my brother picks because she will want him there and that’s the only way to ensure he’ll show up. (Yes, Kati, I’m thinking this could make for a modern retelling of The Prodigal Son.)

My plan had been to return to the Treasure Beach today, but around one o’clock, when I started to make sandwiches to take for lunch, I could thunder rumbling in the distance. As I smeared honey mustard on my son’s sandwich, the thunder boomed loudly and I could hear the rain slapping against the trees. Ten minutes later, it was pouring. Luckily, it was a typical summer storm and passed quickly. But by then it was getting late in the day and the Treasure Beach is nearly a thirty minute drive. If I didn’t have taekwondo class tonight I might have gone, but I needed to make sure we were home in time to eat before my class. Besides I wasn’t sure the rain was gone for good. I asked my son if he wanted to go to one of the more local beaches and he — surprisingly — chose Veteran’s Beach, the beach he spent the most time at with his Grandfather. It’s the first time we went there alone to swim. When we arrived there was only one person in the water and no one on the sand. We had plenty of room to ourselves. By habit, I plopped our things in the same spot Dad always chose, and my son and I went we in the water. We had fun being silly and goofy together playing with the boogie board and inflatable crocodile. 

Since the clouds cleared, other people started showing up. And this is why opening schools is a bad idea. Both yesterday and today we saw large groups of teenagers hanging out with each other showing no respect for social distancing. They were congregating as people used to before the pandemic, before doing so could get someone killed. And by the time we were getting ready to leave, a group of middle school kids had shown up. They too were playing with each other as if a deadly virus were not circulating. Not only did they crowded each other, but multiple times they encroached upon my son’s space. My son, super sensitive to all things related to the virus, quickly moved away. But if this is how kids are behaving all summer, if their parents aren’t being strict with them now, come September they will laugh in the face of anyone to tries to keep them six feet apart from each other. 

I did a bit of research regarding requirements for homeschooling. They vary state by state. I found that New Jersey is one of the states doesn’t seem to care what parents do. There are no guidelines or oversight. New York is one of the few states that has strict oversight. I have to do a bit more research to determine which side of the river I will declare as my base for homeschooling my son. New Jersey would be good because it would allow me to be me and work completely outside the box (while adhering to the curriculum, especially in math.) But in New York they would have a record of what I did, and therefore, it would be harder to contest what ‘grade’ my son should be in following the pandemic.