So much death and preparing for death. I’m sad. Really sad.
My 5 month old grandson’s other Grandma will most likely not beat Covid. There’s still slight hope but really there isn’t. I’ve saw this too much lately. I know the end results too well. The fact she survived the weekend is a win in itself. But she doesn’t have long. Not with her symptoms. Not after seeing so many die before her.
My heart is broken. This lady is an amazing mom and even more amazing Grandma. She embraced not only the baby but his older brother from day 1. Always willing to be Grandma. Even for the nonbiological 2 year old. She’s fun, loving, sweet, so nice. It hurts to know the baby will never get to experience her as he grows up. Never get to remember the fabulous Grandma he had and never get to have any adventures with her. My heart aches for him, for her. Such a loss. My heart also shatters knowing her children need to pick the time to turn the vent off. Nobodies kids should ever make that choice – not in their teens and 20s. Not just beginning their college year, not having a new son they planned on their mom helping raise, not being 8 months pregnant. It isn’t fair. It will never be fair.
Of course I’m still praying. Wishing for a miracle. Yet, I don’t see one coming. Not after seeing 3 friends loose their spouses and dads in the last week. This round of covid is more fatal. At least in our area. Our death rates are going up. It isn’t just the elderly anymore. It’s healthy people in their 50s with no underlying conditions. It’s people who swore this awful illness was a hoax and the conspiracies behind the vaccines.
Against, my conspiracy mind I got my vaccine. Currently, I’m so thankful I did. I’d rather be microchipped, have some crazy illness later, anything over these slow, awful covid deaths. I’d rather be around longer. Right now, I don’t even care about the side effects.
Alex is recovering well from COVID. I did test at home and am negative. The vaccine did it’s job. His oxygen has stayed up. His lungs haven’t gotten angry. I’m assuming it’s the doctor’s early intervention on day 1 and beginning him in both prescriptions and vitamins she recommended. He’s the one with the underlying conditions that should have got awful. Yet, he hasn’t. So thankful for small miracles. I can’t imagine sharing in the nightmare of my friends. I never want to. Ever.
Now we just pray – Pray for miracles. Pray she somehow pulls through this, tho her body has shown all signs it’s about done. Pray for peace for those who have lost loved ones. Pray for this to end.
Tuesday I’ll be going to a funeral on my way home from working out of town. For a man who has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. 30+ years. A man also lost to covid after a long, hard battle. This funeral will be especially hard. Not only was he like an Uncle – as all bikers are when you grow up with them as family, not only will I see his grieving wife and children. But it will be the first time I’ve stepped foot in this church since his son’s funeral. He lost his youngest son to suicide on Easter Morning – 2008. A day I remember vividly. A funeral I remember too well. Now his wife has lost her youngest child and her husband. Something that should be too much for most people. Something that will shake her to her core for the rest of her life.
My heart hurts. My soul hurts.
It’s too much. Far too much. Too little time, too much building darkness.