Day 29

The long weekend passes quickly, full of sunshine, chocolate and a little cider.  I even manage to read an entire book.  But at times it feels like a performance – that we are choosing to stay at home, to relax and enjoy the beautiful weather, rubbish films and roast dinner – then the reality of the situation kicks in.

Friday was the start of the Easter break.  We should have been travelling to Cornwall, picking up Charlotte and having our first holiday of the year.  We were so looking forward to a long weekend in the sun – an Easter egg hunt on the beach, a boat trip, swimming – but obviously this is not to be.  We are disappointed, like everyone who has been affected, but mostly we just miss Charlotte.  She is beautiful inside and out and makes us laugh all the time.  At 5 years old she is still learning and finds wonder in everything – she believes in magic – and her heart is so kind and innocent.  I miss the way she reaches up and takes my hand when we are walking and how she mispronounces words like ‘nice cream’ and ‘makin sarnie’ (all food related obviously, she’s a girl after my own heart).  Thank goodness for modern technology – even if we spend the best part of an hour looking at the ceiling or up her nose – at least we can hear her voice and play rock, paper, scissors.

Today is Bank Holiday Monday and it is the first time I have cried since the pandemic began.

I weep for those who left for work in the morning, got sick and never made it home.  For the dedicated pregnant nurse who died – her baby removed via caesarean section and given to her widower father – and for the countless other frontline staff who are risking their lives to help others.  I cry for those who could not sit with their grandmother, father or child whilst they passed because of this evil disease.  And I feel sorrow and fear for those who are not yet touched, but will suffer grief tomorrow.

And for every tear I wipe away, I give thanks that my loved ones are safe.

COVID-19 is tearing our country apart, our nation, our planet.  It is rushing through us like a tornado, leaving a path of destruction – loss – and we will never quite be the same again.

Every week I will stand at my door and applaud every care home worker, NHS staff, members of the catering and post service, shop workers and delivery drivers.  And all those who are volunteering to help others, in order to protect our most vulnerable.

We will fight this and we will be stronger for it.