By AMY SHANKLAND
Sandwiched
I like to play a little game in my head. It’s called “What a Difference a Year Makes.” Sometimes I edit it to “a month”, “a week,” or even “a day.” For today’s column, though, we’ll go with a year.
This week I’m reflecting on the pain I was feeling last year as Thanksgiving approached. I know I wasn’t alone in my sadness and anger. In October of 2020, Mom’s assisted living facility opened back up and I could visit her whenever I wanted (with masks and precautions, of course). After almost seven months of only seeing her through a door, a window, or outside under a tent once a week, this was incredible.
My sister-in-law and I cleaned her apartment one day. Mom and I enjoyed more relaxing visits soon after. I was excited to get to see Mom for Thanksgiving, as we hadn’t been able to be with her for Mother’s Day and other holidays due to the pandemic.
Then, in mid-November, a staff member at the facility came down with COVID-19. And everything quickly went south. We were back to once-a-week visits – only if you could show a negative test for COVID. I got my COVID test and was determined to at least see Mom the day before Thanksgiving. But the virus reared its ugly head again at Mom’s facility. We were told “absolutely no visits” soon after.
I was so sad, angry, and frustrated. I ran into a friend at Dollar General who asked me how I was – the poor thing wasn’t ready for my ranting reply. Thanksgiving in 2020 was a meal at my home with only my guys. I dropped off a covered paper plate to Mom’s facility that afternoon so she could enjoy a home-cooked holiday dinner. That was it.
Here we are a year later. I can visit Mom whenever I want. As I write this, it’s Thursday, Nov. 18. My husband and I are joining Mom at her facility this evening for a delicious Thanksgiving celebration. I’m on vacation all next week and I intend to spend some time with her enjoying various onsite activities. I can’t wait to get out her Christmas decorations, something she absolutely loves.
I know things aren’t perfect yet with this pandemic. I still have to take my temperature and mask up when I see Mom. However, when I think back to my heartbreak from a year ago, I’m filled with gratitude.
My little game is probably not unique. But as I’ve gotten older and (hopefully!) wiser, I’ve learned to play it often. I even play it in reverse – when I am having a terrible day and the world seems to be falling apart, I’ll often say to myself “I know things will be better in 24 hours… next week… next month…”
There’s a wonderful saying by J. Cole – “The bad news is nothing lasts forever. The good news is nothing lasts forever.” As I approach this Thanksgiving, I’m grateful for that saying. I’ll strive to keep it top of mind every single day.