I just want to say that even going to the supermarket makes me sad this week. You know that middle aisle? The red/white/blue flags and cups and barbecue supplies? This is because my father was a very proud immigrant to the U.S. and his favorite holiday was July 4th … where is the recognition for people like my dad? All this country wants to do is get rid of folks like him. But Covid got there first.

…And the names keep pouring in and with each name there is a story, with each story there is a loss but oh is there so much love.

I have all this energy and love.
Where do I put it? What do I do with it?
How do I keep honoring my son Keith and all those who lost their lives to Covid!
Each year since his passing I have done things in his honor.
I’ve created kindness cards with his picture and Covid statistics. As I share a good deed I share the card and ask for others to pay it forward if they can. I made this vibrant memorial rock garden, I have designated places in the house that are decorated just for him.
I’ve always felt the pull to do so much more.
I was scrolling through Facebook and found a few beautiful public memorials that people just started on their own. When I submitted my son’s name my heart felt something indescribable.

I started to think, I should do that. Can I do that? Without a creative bone in my body I started researching, learning, submitting information to the IRS and the state and before I knew it The Covid Legacy Memorial was started.. The supplies have been purchased and samples created.
It started out of love, out of grief, out of understanding for every single family left and for every single victim that covid took.
The world kept going and here we are still yearning, still loving, still grieving.

Yesterday I started submitting posts to some of the Covid boards on Facebook.
I read each and every reply, each and every email and inbox message.
I soaked in every single detail.
Please give me stories of their lives because it is a blessing to honor each and every one.
Please share them with the world.
Let them never be forgotten.
There’s an understanding between all of us.

If you are interested in adding your loved one’s name to the COVID Legacy Memorial please feel free to email me at CovidLegacyMemorial@outreach.com
with your loved ones names, date of birth, date of passing.
I’ll also be putting together a memory book so if you would like to add pictures, stories, poems or memories feel free to message me.
You can also follow the process on the Covid Legacy Legacy Memorial Facebook page.
Things are still in its infancy but it’s coming together.

September is my estimated time for the first display.
I promise to honor your loved ones with dignity and grace.

Covid Legacy Memorial
Rachael L. Sandoval

Four years ago, Father’s Day was celebrated with such sadness as so many dads were unnecessarily taken from us. I remember gathering with my kids that day thinking now what? Where do we belong on this day? And I think of so many who are wondering the same thing.

Mike–Happy Father’s Day in heaven. You should still be here with us. Celebrating being a dad and grandfather to all the grandchildren who will never know your kindness.

Memorial Day is not the start of summer as most people like to think. But it is a day to honor those who served in our armed forces and who protected us with their lives. We live in a free country because of the sacrifices they make. So let’s not forget the true meaning of this holiday as we have the day off.

The end of May and the Sunday before Memorial Day, Race Day. Today the Indianapolis 500 Mile Race happens, just like it has for my entire life.

My Dad would have had the yard work finished on Saturday and everything set up for “The Greatest Spectacle In Racing.” Usually on Race Day I would sleep in (the race used to start earlier). I would wake to the sound of the radio coming from the patio, with a mixture of muffled family voices. I remember Dad through the years as he aged, in two different homes, on the patio, in the gazebo he built for my wedding, and at my grandparents. He would be sitting there listening as Jim Nabors would sing “Back Home Again In Indiana.” Dad’s head would be slightly tilted back, eyes closed, as Jim’s deep voice soared on those radio waves, almost as though he felt every word.

At the same time, the grill would be sizzling as the hamburgers dropped sprinkles of juice onto the hot coals and as if not to be outdone the hot dogs would answer with their own softer crackle. Then there were the smells of the food cooking, the fresh cut grass, suntan lotion, and the slight smell of Dad’s beer wafting on the warm breeze.

The National Anthem would be sung and then you would hear the announcer’s voice boom over the radio, “Gentlemen, Start Your Engines!”. The roar of race cars would explode in tandem. Dad sitting there a little straighter, with a slight smile, intently listening and thoroughly enjoying every detail. The Voice Of The Speedway, Tom Carnegie, would call the race, beginning with the waving of the green flag to signal the start.

It’s amazing remembering my Dad then. So many details I observed but missed in the moment. How he listened so closely as the race took place. He knew the names of the drivers and the numbers of their cars. He was always in earshot of the radio and hung on every word as the race changed instantly. At times Dad would be relaxed, then his body would tense as the race cars would jockey for positions or his brow would furl listening about a collision, sitting on the edge of his seat to hear if the drivers were okay. He would sit there listening, staring off, concentrating, watching the race unfold in his mind as the words coming from the radio painted the picture for him. Physically Dad was with us but he saw every turn in the race, in his head, just as if he were actually there.

Most years, the race would last about three hours. Dad would always be there at the end, when the checkered flag was waved as the winner crossed the finish line. Grinning, no matter who won.