Mourning Traditions Interrupted?

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Every year, we travel on Alli's angelversary.  We have something planned for that day, a trip to Yellowstone, but we have no idea if that's even going to be a possibility.  The park's pretty much closed down until two weeks before that dreaded date.  And that's subject to change, based on the quarantine situation.  There's absolutely no guarantee we will be able to do that or anything on her date.  If things continue as they have been, or there's a resurgence or worsening as many predict, we may be stuck at home.  And that's the thing we dread most of all, to be stuck in our own skins, unable to keep ourselves busy with anything but self-pity and flashbacks. 

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It's not so much the trip, itself, I'm dying for.  We've gone to Yellowstone for most of the last several years.  We know it well.  We like it, but we're not expecting to see anything we haven't seen before.  We're excited to be going with two other siblings and their families.  We haven't been able to do much as a larger family since the holidays.  We already missed doing anything or going anywhere for Easter, and we ALWAYS meet for Easter.  The more I think about how it may have to be cancelled, the sadder I become, in spite of the fact that the location, itself, isn't the most exciting thing.  If this trip is cancelled due to the current situation, that means any other plans we could make would most likely go up in flames.

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It's too early to start thinking about that date, dreading it, stewing on the possible cancellation of our campout and all that could entail.  I usually don't start that until at least the beginning of June.  But with so many things upended, turned on their ears, this feels like it could be yet another one.  It shouldn't be a big deal that this one trip should go up on the coronavirus pyre.  I hope it won't become one.  But it may be, and there's nothing any of us can do about it. 

The World Mourns

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Three weeks ago, life was still normal.  People just did what they did, living their life as if nothing was wrong, nothing could go wrong.  I'd hear tidbits about growing virus concern, but it was distant from my life, my worries.  Now, the pandemic has conquered the world.  There are few people, few things that virus concerns don't touch.  We read weekly, daily, of incomprehensible numbers of cases of this wildly spreading virus.  Worse yet, we read accounts of thousands who die, of thousands and thousands of families who weep over the graves and memories of cousins, grandparents, parents, children who have passed beyond the veil. 

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Meanwhile, those who are heeding the call of governments everywhere, sometimes the laws of governments everywhere, to shelter at home.  Grocery stores have become hot spots as people scramble to make sure they have enough to survive, sometimes more than enough, leaving others without.  Many other businesses, streets, former tourist destinations, sit empty and locked, waiting for life to return to some sense of normalcy.  Some look for someone to blame.  Most find frustration.  But we all are united in the same lifestyle, on some level, because we all face the same monster, an illness we can't see, can't fight except to hide and keep our distance. 

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We're all mourning the life we had before.  We're mourning our freedom, our sense of normalcy, sometimes our jobs and stability.  Many of us are mourning those we have lost.  Some of us are used to mourning, to loss, to pain.  We're used to looking for a new normal because mourning has become central to our lives.  It's on some level nice to be united in something, to have a common ground with people from around the world.  But on every other level, it just sucks to mourn.  It sucks to lose.  It sucks to be in pain, to miss the life we had before.  We together hold to hope life will return to something like we had once upon a time, just three weeks ago.  In the meantime, we're together but alone, united in loss and pain and fear, praying for the day the world will make sense.