“I know I don’t talk about it much but I miss Keith every single day” ( a text I woke up to 2 days ago.)

“on the way back from the track meet I remembered how Keith encouraged me to do sports, I wonder if he is proud of me right now” ( after Alex placed 1st in shot put. He was crying on the bus on the way back to school )

“I look back at old pictures from when Keith was in high school and wish I could talk to him about his experiences” (Alex knowing he will be going into his freshman year)

“You know I don’t get on Facebook much mom but I clicked on Keith’s profile and saw so many years of his life. I saw all the posts you make in his memory, Thank you for doing that, he deserves to be remembered”

Looking through the eyes of my youngest 14 year old son who had to see his older brother in a casket, had to deal with people at school still questioning why he was STILL wearing a mask.

Covid has not only stole the life my son but it took a brother away from 5 siblings who love and miss him so much.

I came across this yesterday and shared it with my family:

“Whenever I feel my grief, I will try to remember that I am also feeling my love.
I will honor the grief and give thanks for the love”
Dr. Alan D. Wolfelt

My very first memory is the blizzard of 1980 and my then 14-year-old uncle–who was larger than life–“throwing” me in snowbanks and playing with me for what felt like hours. Not a single bad memory with you in the intervening 40 years. Concerts, vacations, the lake, the shore, Giants games, bar hopping or just watching an old film.

You were fun, funny, kind, inquisitive, brave, a cancer survivor and above all a good man. Your friends, siblings, nieces, nephews but most of all your wife and kids miss you fiercely because you loved them all so well…

My son, I miss you tremendously–I can’t even put into words. I remember I would walk by your room and the door would be cracked. I would peek through and see you so happy and laughing–just to hear you so happy made me feel a joy inside. That is something I look for and I peek through the crack and I see an empty bed and room so quiet … I miss his laugh. I love you forever, my precious son. Til we meet again–Mama loves you.

Three years ago today, June 7, 2020, I received the dreaded call–my Dad died from Covid. They could not even give me a time, only an estimate.

The morning shift arrives at 8:00 am to make their rounds. So by MY ESTIMATE, they got to his room at “approximately 8:45 am.” When they found him dead.

I’m left with so many questions. Where was the night nurse? They knew he was not doing well, so why weren’t they checking on him? When was the last time someone saw him alive? Why didn’t they go to his room first, knowing his condition?

So I’m left with, “at approximately 8:45 am your Dad passed from Covid.”

I came from away, from Ft. Myers, Florida to be more precise. Although I am fortunate to have not lost a loved one from Covid-19, I attended the reading events online in Louisville and New York because my heart continues to go out to the tens of millions who are still grieving, as expressed in my song “Their Memory Survives.”

These two reading events brought the priceless stories from “Who We Lost,” the book, to life. Hearing the words that were read from the writers in this “Portable Covid Memorial” brought the profound importance of “Who We Lost” to a new level. To actually hear the stories from these brave writers who got up on stage and read their writings to a live audience was emotionally overwhelming to me. Suffice it to say, this experience confirms the fact that the pandemic is far from over. It is not history. I came from away through the magic of online technology.