The way I think about the everyday things, of death and the future, has changed significantly during the course of the pandemic. Of course I've thought of death as inevitable, something that could happen tomorrow or in twenty years, but that reality sits in the haze. It's uncertainly certain. But now that's different. Like waking up to the harsh midday sun there's that stark reality that death could happen tomorrow and it really could.
It's not like I haven't thought of it happening prematurely. Three years ago I would have thrown it all out. But things happened. In the year after that, I began to think of what ifs. What if things could be different? For the first time in a long time, I was looking forward.
Now I'm pissed. This pandemic is threatening to take all that. Well, truthfully, not much has been done since then and that's my fault but it's more about the principle you know. This pandemic and the time spent in a standstill has made me think of things I normally would have dismissed as something that I don't see in my future. I think about the people I lost and think about what they would have wanted to do, to see, to feel. I thought more and more about what these same questions would have meant for me.
I'm realistic. I know my options are limited. Now the pandemic is limiting those options even more.
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