Day 233

I have decided to buy some Ovaltine. The cold nights are drawing in and there is something comforting about being under a cosy blanket and holding a steaming mug of something yummy in both hands*

*mulled wine is another option

It reminds me of when I used to watch The X-Files with my mum and dad. Five minutes before it was due to start, my dad would sort out the Ovaltine/Horlicks (whatever was on offer that week) and my mum would take the dog out for a pre-show tinkle. Then we would all settle down in our allocated armchairs (them) and sofa (moi) to watch the new episode, sipping malty goodness. Bliss!

Time seems to have gone by so quickly since then. My parents would have been in their mid-forties – not much older than I am now – when they taught me to drive and helped me set up my first flat. My dad fed me chocolate when my heart was broken and my mum bought me vodka when I had adult chicken pox and couldn’t go out clubbing with my mates. All those weekend taxi services into Bournemouth and reminders to “take your coat” or “have you got your inhaler?”

And the more serious memories: the time they had to call an ambulance because I was so sick that I passed out and was subsequently diagnosed with Crohns Disease. When my mum survived a heart attack and it changed our lives forever. And when we sat at my dad’s bedside in intensive care, wondering if sepsis would take him away.

Now they are both 71 years of age and I have no idea how that happened.

Time is both precious and unforgiving. It slips by as we count down each working day to the weekend. Each month until Easter…birthdays…Christmas…New Year.  Time is immensely significant. It never stops but it can feel like it stands still.  A life ceases.  A baby is born.

And a moment can alter the future forever.

This pandemic – this horrendous virus that is ravishing our planet – is stealing away the precious time we should be spending with the ones we love.

I heard the saddest story on the radio the other day and I couldn’t stop crying. An elderly gent phoned in and explained that he and his wife had been together for fifty years. They relied on each other and they were both blind. Three months prior to this call, his wife had to be moved to a care home due to ill health and because of COVID they had been unable to spend any time together. There were no communication booths, and of course they couldn’t even see each other through a window.

Sadly, she passed away a few weeks before the lockdown was lifted.  He never even got to hold her hand.

How brave he was to share his story, and how compassionate, to say “I just don’t want anyone else to have to go through something like that”.  I felt utterly heartbroken for him.  In fact I am crying again as I type these words.

In my own life, I have friends who have lost people. I have friends who have thankfully survived COVID but are still suffering from the after effects and it continues to impact their lives.

And here we go again, another impending lockdown. Is it that people are not taking this seriously? Is it the open schools? Is it the open pubs? Is it that hands are not being washed and masks are not being worn effectively?

I don’t have the answer.

What I DO know, is that I am grateful for my grey roots and thickening waistline. I am thankful that I cannot see my family at the moment, because it means they are still here to be missed and they are being kept safe.

And the fact that I was here to celebrate another birthday is an absolute gift.

It’s easy to take things for granted, even now. So cherish your family and don’t roll your eyes when you grandmother calls. Be silly and enjoy video calls with your friends. Send that pointless message or text to say hi to someone you haven’t spoken to for ages – don’t put it off – because we really don’t know what tomorrow holds.