“He heard from his workplace that a co-worker tested positive for COVID-19. They’re writing each other letters, leaving sanitized little gifts, and cooking together over FaceTime. This week, he left a video game in our mailbox with a love note: ‘I wore a mask and gloves to sanitize this for you. Wash your hands and don’t touch your face. I love you.’”
“To the nurse who woke up to a text message that another one of their coworkers has died. Every day, we write our names and the date on our face masks and eye shields. Every day, we show up stronger, more capable, and braver than the day before. Not just for our patients, but for one another.”
“Within 2 weeks, she passed away in my arms. Even though I know my sweet Peanut girl got her wings that day, I was completely devastated. There are some pain days I want to kiss this little slice of earth behind, but I just can’t.”
“I would post our family pictures online as a record of our wonderful life. I can’t help but think she was only with us on borrowed time. If I’d known this, I would have had her sooner so I could have loved her and experienced Kinsley longer. 8 years wasn’t nearly long enough.”
“A much as I love having you on my couch and at my table—I don’t love how hard it is for you to be those places when you expected to be somewhere else right now.”
“They run towards the danger, as everyone else runs the other way. They’ve made choices that will follow them for the rest of their lives. They’ve been the last face many have seen as they drew their last breath, those images seared in their minds for all time.”
“I work for my town’s local grocery store. I have 3 children confined at home. Daily, I see fear on the faces down every aisle. I see huge, barren holes on shelves from panic. It never seems like enough. I know I’m not alone.”
“I went downstairs to get the laundry and crumpled down on the bottom step. That’s when I felt the shooting pain of the latest round of laxatives attempting to kick in. I dropped the basket and crawled on my hands and knees. I could feel my stomach contracting fiercely. I didn’t even have the strength to hold a phone to my ear.”
“Tomorrow is my son’s birthday. I slacked too long and the gifts I ordered won’t arrive in time. I reassure myself by saying, ‘He’s only 4, he won’t be disappointed.’ But in my heart, I’m fuming. Who am I? Just 2 months ago I planned a birthday party extraordinaire for my oldest. This just isn’t like me. Any sort of structure we had is now gone.”
“My heart was failing. I couldn’t even get out of bed. I threw up instantly and then fainted. ‘I can’t be sick forever. I can’t live like this.’ The coordinator came in to tell me there may be a heart for me — her heart. I wasn’t scared. I was ready.”
