Day 203

The virus finally caught up to the bastard in the White House. It infected him. But will it kill him? Let me be clear. I don’t want the bastard to die. I want him to suffer. I want the virus to destroy his body and mind enough so that he is in pain and miserable for the rest of his life. Yes, that might make me a terrible person, but after all the pain and suffering he caused me and my family, he deserves no better.

Ever since Trump announced his candidacy for president, he has mocked, ridiculed, and made fun of everyone from the disabled to men and women who have lost their lives defending this country. The man is immoral, a snake, and he deserves no compassion or sympathy from the American people. He enjoyed kicking everyone else when he was on top, so why should anyone extend mercy now?

Six months ago, my father lay dying in a hospital from Covid. You know the story. I meticulously recorded it here. But my father should never have gotten sick. If Trump had not lied to the American people. If he had warned that the virus was in Europe, that it was spreading quickly, and that it was deadly, my parents would have canceled their trip to Patagonia. They never would have been on the cruise ship where they contracted the virus. But Trump didn’t give a shit about my parents. All he cared about was Wall Street, that banks didn’t panic. In his own words, he downplayed the virus and because of it my father is dead. And since my father wasn’t wealthy. Since my father didn’t have a helicopter to airlift him to a hospital, I had to drive across state lines to take my dad to a good hospital. Because of it, I got sick. As a result, my lungs are not what they used to be. I get winded more quickly than I ever did before. I also can’t sleep — whether that’s a result of the illness or Dad’s death or a combination of both, I can’t say. But I know this, if Trump had been an honest decent person, a reputable president, my dad would still be alive. I’d be able to breath like I used to. I’d be sleeping. My mother wouldn’t be miserable. And my son wouldn’t be constantly sad.

For eight months, Trump pretended the virus wasn’t a threat. He mocked science. He pushed for businesses to stay open despite the knowledge that people would die. Then he bullied schools into opening despite the fact that kids were in fact getting sick. He pushed his own agenda. And people croaked. There are 210,000 empty chairs at dinner tables across the country. One of which is in my house. Did Trump ever extend condolences to the families of the dead? Nope. Not once. Did he ever express sympathy or compassion or concern? Nope, not once. But now, his family expects us to be concerned. They are angry that people are celebrating his illness. Well, isn’t that a bit hypocritical?

My own son is lost without his grandfather, the person he loved most in this world. He sits at home and wants to do nothing but watch Cobra Kai on repeat and do puzzles. He buries his grief in one puzzle after another. Trump’s lies and actions killed my son’s hero. And now Trump’s son wants me to be compassionate. Well screw him. Screw the entire Trump family and the Republican Party. The entitlement of the rich is disgusting.

I lived in New York City when New York was the epicenter of Covid. I heard the ambulances daily — hourly. I watched the grave diggers tear up the cemetery. I listened to the news as Elmhurst Hospital turned people away or had to let them die in the hallways because they didn’t have room for everyone who was sick. People were told to go home and die. But now, Trump and his cronies march into the best hospitals and received the best care. They created an environment in which death entered thousands of homes, but because they are rich and powerful and well connected they get VIP treatment. I won’t even get into the bit about Trump not paying taxes or the fact that he’s trying to destroy Obamacare which would leave thousands of Americans without health insurance. But why should my mother have to pay for my father’s medical bills and Trump’s, when Trump himself paid hardly any taxes? When Trump did nothing to help my family.

And what about all the people Trump infected when he knew he was sick but refused to quarantine? I’m not talking about his political minions. I’m talking about the maids, the waiters and waitress, the peons who struggle to make ends meet. The people who may or may not have health insurance. The people who will still need to pay their own medical bills even if their illness leaves them unemployed. Despite being sick, he had the audacity to show up in my town where he mingled with people who will then shop in the local groceries stores. He brought disease into my backyard and no one is holding him accountable for the people who will suffer or die because of it. Luckily, I’m not at home. Luckily, I’ve a place to hide from real life for the next couple of months. But what about the locals who now have to live with the fallout of his selfishness?

For months, Trump fed the American people lies. As a result, people died. Now, the lies have finally caught up to him.

All the bastard had to do was wear a fucking mask. But instead he made fun of Biden for wearing one. He refused to acknowledge the science behind the virus. He refused to be honest with the American people. He hosted rallies, discouraged masks, and made it seem like pretending the virus wasn’t deadly was the macho manly thing to do. He alone is to blame for getting sick. And if he recovers, I will know that there is no god, no justice in this world.

When Dad died, he died alone. I wasn’t allowed to visit. I wasn’t allowed to hold his hand or be there for him. I could only see him and speak to him via FaceTime. But Trump is allowed to leave the hospital for a photo op. He continues to put other people at risk because of his selfishness, his vanity. Dad died alone. But Trump insists on the limelight even if others will die because of it. That’s not right. It’s not fair.

Six months ago, I could not be home to comfort my own son because I had Covid. Six months ago, I was holding on to hope, praying for a miracle. Six months ago, God said no, and plunged me into this nightmare that has become my reality. And it never would have happened it Trump gave a shit about the American people. Six months ago, I waited daily for Dad’s doctor to call with updates, hoping he’d improve. Instead, he got worse until he died. Now, I listen for the updates on Trump, hoping he doesn’t recover. Because he, who created this mess, doesn’t deserve better than my father. His family, doesn’t deserve better than mine. 

Six months ago, this was my life and Trump offered me nothing but the promise that my father had never mattered, that neither my dad nor my family ever would matter to him:

https://jaegerwrites13.wordpress.com/2020/04/04/mama-day-19/