pandemic

Grief, Coffee, and the missing of Community

The last month I’ve been busy writing stories for work. It is by far one of the things I enjoy most about the work that I do. Yesterday while working on content for my stories I came across some old photos from many years ago. Old photos have a way of bringing to the forefront those things that have been hovering just below the surface, and today, those feelings came rushing back. It’s hard to express with any understanding of how the pandemic has brought with it the pain of loss and grief but multiplied to the 10th power. I was sharing with a friend recently that one of the difficult things about grief is that nothing is ever the same. Now, of course, that can be said about many things really, and that’s not to diminish how others feel. But I can say that one of the things that I needed was routine after Evan died. I needed to have something that got me up every morning as sometimes sleep was fitful, and my heartbroken.

One of my routines is getting up and going to Peet’s every morning for coffee and to see the carousel. Sometimes I can catch a sunrise or chase the moon as it sets. But Peet’s is the place I could go and oftentimes think about Evan. When I went in for my coffee in the afternoons, he’d sometimes sneak up behind me and say, Hey Mom!. It’s a place I could always find Evan or Alex back in the day, and it is, without a doubt, a memory keeper. It has always been a place that lets me know I am home. For me, it is essential not only for coffee but for my emotional and mental health. In the first few weeks of SIP, I remember going in and being teary as I thought about how they stayed open and how for me, it was a lifeline. Peet’s never closed. When sleep was fleeting, and I was up at 5 am, I’d go and wait for them to open. The first few months of this shutdown were hard for so many reasons, but the fact that something stayed the same was comforting. I know it sounds silly as we are in the middle of a global crisis, but as many are learning, much about this SIP has to do with grief and loss. The pandemic made grief that much more intense, and it continues to feel that way.

Peet’s holds memories of past employees who have moved on to other jobs or cities. It’s a place where I’ve made friends, and it’s a place where community happened every day. It’s something I REALLY miss. I miss the community. I wonder about some of the older folks I met who came to Peet’s for connection. I miss seeing them, and in the missing, my heart longs for Evan and for days that are long gone and fading. Just to write that is heartwrenching. Grief is not always gentle. It can come at you like a freight train or like a gentle breeze, but I can tell you that it’s not made this SIP easy or manageable. Thanks, Peet’s, for providing for this grieving, heartbroken momma.

You are essential to me!

Have I told you about Evan??

Today while the world is laser-focused on a pandemic, for many, we will be thinking and speaking about the children we have lost. The how of that loss is diverse as the many mothers who will be missing their child/ren this Mother’s Day. Today like every day, many are suffering a loss that doesn’t take a break. We suffer silently as the world seems to have discomfort with our voice. So with the world around me clamoring to be heard, I’m raising my voice.

Have I told you about Evan?

I’ve wondered during this pandemic what would be Evan’s thoughts and actions. Evan was always very passionate about his convictions and would start a discussion to see how people would respond. It was the art of the debate that he loved just as passionately as the debate itself. He was an extrovert and a person who would bring together those on the fringe or just needed a place to feel connected. At his memorial, he was given the title of a “Zookeeper” of Introverts. I loved that name and the thoughts that name was an active part of his life. He was a writer of many things but poetry was his heart, a book collector, and an avid reader. He came into this world nearly three weeks early as to get a head start on living, and he continued to live until his final days, which for me came far too soon. He was a giver of life through the gift of organ donation, and he left behind a brother who, like Evan, is passionate and chose to walk out that passion by successfully hiking the PCT in 2019. Alex did this to raise awareness about organ donations, to raise money for that cause and I believe to honor the gift of life that Evan shared to five people.

To all of the moms, I know personally, and on social media, I see you. I am sad that we share this journey of loss, but I’m grateful that I have you. That you see me and that I can always find unity and love in this space. I pray for our world, our nation, and you as we again celebrate another day without our child. My love and understanding to you today.