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Riding the Storm

Updated: May 13, 2021

This image memory popped up in my Facebook feed. To outsiders it is just a group of people. To me it is heroism.

The pandemic of 2020 will long be remembered as our family's triumph. Fourteen months after Covid 19 crashed into the world like the worst meteor ever, so much of the experience is being forgotten. For us, we won't forget.

Two weeks into the world lockdown, our 28 year old daughter, living abroad as a student in Scotland, contracted Coronavirus. At the time of her contraction the world hadn't begun wearing masks nor did it believe that anyone younger than 60 could get it. In a 24-hour period she proved all of that wrong.

Not wanting to die, she chose to remain in her flat. Entirely alone. Everyone else had fled the building to return to their home countries. For six weeks we kept a steady vigil with her. Sitting at our computers day and night watching her gasp for every breath.

At home we diligently washed our hands to happy birthday (as the CDC suggested), daily checked in with her siblings to make sure they were healthy as well as created safe and healthy routines for family members who had to go to work. Every day we counted our blessings that we had one more day with each other.

Though the disease only lasted fourteen days, the toll it took on her body and soul would linger two more months. Then one day, her brother passed a computer screen shot of her from a conversation she had with her dad early in the morning. "She looks like herself again." Like a spring crocus, she had prevailed against the dark of the disease. The next Sunday we jubilantly met together to celebrate the success.

Thanks Facebook for the memories.

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