The year we will never forget is now officially over, but all the ways it affected each of us will always be remembered. Even though 2020 is technically in the past when we turned the calendar to January 2021, its impact physically, mentally, emotionally, and in every way is integrated into how we’ll view life from now on.
These are just my own distinguishing details adding to the storyline of a twisted plot, a global pandemic we never saw coming, and still waiting for the closing act, or if one can ever be written?
And so the curtains went up at the start of the performance,
Act I, Scene 1: New Year’s Eve 2019 (you all get the idea).
We went out to dinner instead of cooking the second round of 7 fishes, similar to what we traditionally cooked on Christmas Eve. It was different. It was relaxing. It was fun. It wasn’t the dawn of a new century like 20 years ago, but still the beginning of a fresh new decade, full of promise.
I felt excited.
February brought the start of my personal new decade. I turned 60. Again we celebrated, with a nice dinner out for two, with my husband, on Wednesday night and then over the weekend, a home-cooked meal and cake with family and friends, with short coffee get-togethers in between. I thoroughly enjoyed my celebration of a milestone birthday with my precious family and friends.
I felt grateful.
Then arrived crazy March, and by mid-month, total madness had set in, as a world pandemic was declared. Schools shut down, home offices went up, and facial masks went on, a few inconveniences to put up with for a couple of weeks or so we thought.
I felt confused but confident.
April usually reveals the faint beginnings of springtime, a celebration of Easter Sunday, and my grandson’s birthday. Of course, spring arrived eventually. The cherry trees blossomed, and the daffodils bloomed, but no celebrations. No lasagna to bake for a family Easter dinner and a week later a virtual birthday party for my 4-year-old grandson, after driving half an hour to watch a 2-minute drive by birthday fire truck that was synchronized, unfortunately to mother nature’s sudden downpour. So 2020! My grandson was ecstatic for two minutes, and I cried all the way home.
I felt so sad.
April showers sometimes bring May showers. So my daughter blew out the candles on her sweet 16 birthday cake in our partially opened garage on a rainy Saturday, naturally, with two socially distanced good friends. The red velvet cake, my daughter’s fave, was baked by our neighbor/professional baker. What an amazing treat, one positive of the pandemic! After two months in quarantine, my daughter came over with my grandchildren for Mother’s Day, and we waved to them from the back door. His dad reprimanded my 4-year-old for trying to step into my kitchen. They left little plants and homemade cards on the table, then tried to explain to a perplexed and upset little boy why they had to leave without even a squeeze of a hand from his grandma—another tearful departure.
I felt cheated and resentful.
With June and its long summer days came a glimmer of hope. The number of COVID cases was on the decline, so very cautiously, we stepped out again, still never leaving the house without a mask. So many times, though, I’d catch myself or others in a parking lot ready to run into a store, only to have to run back to the car for the forgotten mask. Naturally, the warmer days made it seem impossible to be still living through a pandemic. And the school year that had never resumed suddenly ended, leaving parents, kids, and teachers relieved, disappointed, and unsure of what to expect in September, especially for so many seniors who never properly bid farewell to high school and wondering what going away to college really meant.
I felt a tiny bit hopeful.
July and August resembled normalcy more than any other months. My kids, friends, grandsons, and neighbors spent many fun-filled hot days in our above ground pool, never so grateful as this year for having one. Barbecues, bonfires, and homemade pizza filled many days and nights, and our yearly summer getaway to Cape Cod was barely missed. Appreciation was key.
I felt relaxed.
As the saying goes, time flies when you are having fun. September was fast approaching and the start of a brand new school year, one like never before. We chose remote for our high school junior (but that’s a whole other story), not to mention my son’s wedding planned for the end of the month. Do you postpone a wedding reception with originally 275 guests for next year and hope for the best, or cut the list down to 50 guests and have a tent reception?
So eager to begin their life together, my son and daughter-in-law chose the second option, and somehow it all worked out. They had a beautiful sunny wedding day with a very touching church ceremony. Then we ate, drank, and danced with the newlyweds’ closest and dearest friends and relatives, and all our guests, in the end, were safe, most importantly. And again, I shed tears, but for different reasons. I cried for all the other friends and relatives that couldn’t celebrate with us because of the pandemic and our departed loved ones. And I also cried delighted tears like a mom would at her son’s wedding.
I felt cautiously content.
As expected, the fall arrived in October and November, bringing us shorter, cooler days and the rise in COVID cases once again. The only difference was we all knew the drill by now. And as we prepared to stay safer than ever before, the long nights of winter were ahead, and the holiday season was fast approaching, once again like no other. Halloween and Thanksgiving came and went. There was plenty of candy but no trick or treaters and turkey with all its trimmings, like years past, but only for a table of 4.
I felt beyond disappointed.
Then the last week of the last month of the year rolled around. Christmas Day was here, and after taking all proper precautions, all my kids and mom gathered at my house for the holiday dinner, after so many weeks of quarantine. The gifts were exchanged, the table was set, and lasagna cooked perfectly. We spent a couple of hours in a non-pandemic world. It was amazing! But the most memorable part was because of the pandemic happening when my 18-month-old grandson catapulted out of his mother’s arms into mine when I greeted them at the door.
He hugged me so tight and for so long, knowing at such a young age, that he had missed me for two months and really loved me. What a heartwarming and precious gift! This time I wasn’t the only one teary-eyed. His mom and grandpa cried too.
I felt fortunate and blessed.
If nothing else, the pandemic has brought to the forefront something we always knew but so easily took for granted. My baby grandson just reminded me that the human connection with reciprocation of love is an intense feeling like no other and one to be treasured. So if it took a pandemic to move my baby in this way, then we should all take his cue and take that heartfelt message with us into this new year and beyond.
