Reflections: Be strong through the hard times of coronavirus lockdown

That’s when I lost it.

‘I SOBBED in the kitchen with my head down next to the cereal box.’ (photo credit: Wikimedia Commons)
‘I SOBBED in the kitchen with my head down next to the cereal box.’
(photo credit: Wikimedia Commons)
Today I miss my daughter Navi.
I missed her when I hugged my Sara, the one right after her, whom I call my ray of sunshine.
I missed her suddenly because I felt her through Sara’s hug.
It was like a God-sent hug.
Sara asked me if I was okay. I wiped my tears quickly and hugged her from the back so she wouldn’t see my face, but nonetheless she sensed my vibes. Kids are incredible when it comes to feelings.
She whispered to me while looking ahead toward the window. I worry when I see you upset and also Abba, she said, but I am more worried for you.
Why for me? She turned to me and said because I love you; you are my mum.
I felt that came from Navi, straight from heaven.
We hugged tight and then she left the room, skipping as only a child can.
That’s when I lost it.
I sobbed in the kitchen with my head down next to the cereal box, Captain Crunch looking down at me from his peanut butter squares.
I picked my head up and had some Cheerios in my hair – my eyes wet, my nose running.
It felt so good.
Just sitting in my own misery and finally feeling again the pain of missing someone so dear to you, dying to see her, smell her and hug her. I say finally because you might not get it if you haven’t gone through a tragedy of losing a child, but as time goes by, we need some time to feel that pain inside again.
It makes you feel alive, recalculates your priorities, reshapes your soul.
The uncertainty of the coronavirus of what the future will bring for me, my family, and humanity brings me back to that uncertainty I had sitting in the hospital with my daughter and never fully being able to know what the future would be.
At the time we were fighting an enemy that we more or less knew what it was.
We hoped we prayed, we loved, we laughed...
Now we are all fighting the same war and as much as I try to document my feelings about it, pray, talk about it... I feel we are delving more into the unknown every day. It can be exciting sometimes, scary, crazy, wonderful, depressing, all together.
This deep isolation slowly brings out all my weaknesses, my fears and my ugliness. They are all coming out slowly and staring at me from the moment I open my eyes and hear the deafening silence of the road outside.
I forget where we are, what we are and what is going on.
Yes, that was more or less that feeling I had when I would wake up in the hospital bed next to Navi, with my face squashed against the handrail of the bed, the sweet beeping of the machines, that weird uncomfortable silence around us.
Now though, I smell coffee and pancakes on a normal Wednesday morning and not alcohol and disinfectant like in the hospital. I see my husband home at 11 a.m. frying bananas to add to the freshly made waffles and see my kids all together having breakfast.
I cannot let the virus win.
Look at this wonderful gift I have! We complained we didn’t have Sundays. Now it’s Sunday every day for us! For all...
We cannot let depression and fear overtake us. We must fight our ghosts reaching out from the depth of our discomfort of not being in control anymore. We have to come out of this, stronger, better, nicer.
Yes, also that sweet melancholy that surrounds us and makes us miss those we love and pray for, it can only help us and prepare us to be more focused on what we have ahead.
We need strength and faith. Only good will be coming our way.
I blow my nose and take out the Cheerios stuck in my hair. I smile, looking around me. It just feels like any ordinary European sunny Sunday. The only difference is that it’s an Israeli cold Wednesday.
A little confusing but we’ll be okay. I am sure. Now let me eat my pancakes and dream I’m in a hotel somewhere in Italy with my parents and family.
Be strong.