My father passed away Christmas night 2020; it was also his 75th birthday. It breaks my heart that he had to fight this horrible virus all alone. No one there to hold his hand or provide comfort.

We will be reminded every Christmas of my father’s passing. I try my best to find comfort that he passed on our Lord’s birthday. But I have to admit, my heart may never be whole again.

On March 15th, 2023 it will be three years since the mayor of New York City, the greatest city on earth, cancelled the Saint Patrick’s Day parade after days of deliberations. During world wars it was never cancelled. How could this be? How dangerous was this “corona virus” as they were calling it then be that much of a threat to us when they were planning on having the parade?

Why did everyone let us down and not tell us the truth when they knew about it? Over 1 million Americans have lost their lives because our government failed to tell the truth about Covid. NYC was concerned about the millions of revenue they would lose if they cancelled the parade. They have already forgotten because in two weeks the St. Patrick’s day parade will go on as if Covid never existed.

My sixty-five year old brother Johnny went into a hospital for surgery followed by short rehab in a nursing home three years ago and never came home. Because of the poor Pandemic preparation and poor infection control almost everywhere, he caught Covid and died.

He was a gentle and kind soul and we shared a most wonderful childhood as well as our teenage and adult years together. I lost so much of my past and future. Johnny was the one I was the closest to the most years of my life. Johnny was my confidant the most years of my life. For the most years of my life he was my best friend. Why does sibling loss and grief appear so neglected and underappreciated?

I remember introducing you and Dad to Cards Against Humanity one holiday visit. I’ll never forget how hard we all laughed when you read the MOST inappropriate card response in the pile.

Year after year, my sons always chose to have birthday parties at Grandpa’s house. It was nothing special–it was a one bathroom, two bedroom run-down home. We had enough yard to run around, set up an inflatable, tables and chairs, usually outside because the living room was so small.

The memories of my dad, their grandpa, pulling at the pinata string in order for them to hit and miss the pinata … Everyone that attended was usually family or lifetime friends. It was always special to bring new people to meet my father and the rest of the family. We pretty much celebrated every birthday at his house. He welcomed anyone with open arms.