Day 206

I am too old to be sitting in my room crying this much. My anger is uncontrollable. My pain is unlike anything I have ever experienced. I was listening to the news and Donal Trump had the audacity to say that getting Covid was a gift from God. I have no words to express my rage. Covid killed my father, my best friend. Covid killed him because Trump refused to speak the truth back in February. As a child I was bullied, called names that destroyed me. But nothing ever hurt me as much as Trump’s comment tonight. A gift from God. How dare he. Trump had the benefit of six months worth of research and drugs that were not available to my father. He had the best doctors and helicopter to take him to the hospital the moment he started to feel ill. My father couldn’t even get an ambulance to take him where he wanted to go. And so he waited all night in mystery because he didn’t want to call me at midnight. He didn’t want to disturb me. He died six months ago, and tonight — because Trump’s comment was like a punch to the gut — I’m crying more than I have in months. I detest the president. How dare he act as if getting infected is a good thing. There are 215,000 dead Americans and he stomps on each of their names and the families who are in mourning. Has there ever been a more vile, a more detestable president. A gift from God. Well fuck you Donald Trump. 

This afternoon, I ended school early so that I could take my son pumpkin picking. Since mom is here with us, she joined us. Part of me didn’t want to go. Every time I’ve gone to the farms out here, Dad was with me. Dad taking my son on hay rides, buying him corn on the cob, following him through the corn maze. Everything about Halloween out here is saturated with Dad. But there was no way I was taking my son on the weekend, not when Covid is still killing people. And I won’t be anywhere else during the week. I didn’t want to go but I also didn’t want to disappoint my son. He enjoys pumpkin picking. And Halloween is one of his favorite holidays. This year there will be no costume, no trick-or-treating, no parties. I couldn’t declare that the would also be no pumpkins.

For the first time ever, I drove to the farm. Dad always drove. I sat in the passenger seat and my son sat in the back with his grandmother. But lately, the two of them haven’t been getting along. It saddens me to see their inability to be happy in each other’s company. So now mom sits up front with me and my son sits alone in the back.

From the moment I stepped foot on the farm I wanted to cry. Who knew absence could be so heavy. And then I realized I was wearing sunglasses and a mask so there was no reason to hold back the tears. Daddy should have been there with us. He should have been here to make my son happy. He should have been here to make me smile. But he wasn’t. Because for us, Covid was not a blessing from God. It ripped apart out soul, and tore the man we loved most from our lives.