I did not realize until yesterday just how much I have missed feeling like a reasonably normal person in a normal/typical/average world. I did something yesterday I had not done since approximately January 2020.
I met a friend for lunch.
I know it's not a very exciting event to report, two women sitting in a Greek restaurant eating and catching up, but it gave me a tremendous boost that was sorely needed. I just didn't know it was needed.
I have known my friend Dana for almost thirty years. When I first moved to Atlanta in 1993 she was working as a legal secretary at an insurance defense law firm just off Clairmont Road and every day we ate lunch together in the break room. When she left the firm it was really upsetting to me, but I understood her reasons. She eventually became a paralegal. We stayed in touch and over the years socialized as often as our busy schedules allowed. It seemed like right as her sons were getting grown and freeing up her time I was adopting my kids and my life got super complicated. Dana and I have very similar tastes in movies and books so often we would go to an afternoon movie together. Sometimes we would read the same book and enthusiastically discuss it.
Here's the fascinating thing. I don't recall every having a serious disagreement with Dana. I treasure her friendship.
The greatest thing Dana ever did for me -- besides taking me home and staying with me after I had dental surgery 20 years ago -- was recommending a doctor for my mom. The last ten years or so of her life Mom was the patient of a gerontologist at Emory who had been treating Dana's dad. Mom hated doctors on principal but she loved Dr. Graves. Yep, you heard that right, a gerontologist named Graves. Great guy.
After Mom passed away in 2020 Dr. Graves called me and talked to me for 20 minutes. He told me he had reviewed all the hospital records from Mom's final days and although she had Covid, it was really kidney failure that did her in. I had unwittingly contracted Covid and given it to Mom, so it was really kind of him to call and discuss her final illness with me. A great weight was lifted from me. When Covid hit in the spring of 2020 Mom was in rehab, and when she came home in April of that year I had been so careful to quarantine, restrict her visitors, mask when out of the house, wash my hands, etc. I did everything the CDC said to do and I still got it. Mom was 86 though, and it was just her time.
Anyway, I digressed.
Dana is now taking care of her Mom and I know so well how hard it is to be a 24/7 caretaker of an elderly person. Mental health breaks are super important. Dana also is in the process of selling her house and her mom's house and I know the gut-wrenching process so well, having sold my house last year. So I've tried to pass along a few tips to Dana.
It has been really hard getting accustomed to being alone after my mom passed away and my son moved out. Strangely enough, although I miss my wonderful neighbors very much, the apartment has not been all bad. I walk Lola twice every day and I often run into familiar faces and we chat. Lola loves everyone and makes new friends easily. I can feel the sun on my face. I know if there were to be an emergency I could go knock on the door of a neighbor and they would help me. There's a lot to be said for being part of a community.
Covid has taught me the value to human interactions, while also making me more cautious about germ transmission. My grieving process for my mom has been complicated because of covid but there are many people in this country who have had it much worse. Perhaps the world needed to be shaken up, a bit. Perhaps like the Spanish flu of 1918 we will always mark this time in history as a learning time, as a nation. Despite all the chaos in the world today, I think most Americans are grateful to be alive, grateful to be American, and much more aware of our need for human connection.
We are all in this together.
left, my son and Lola
right, outside my apartment
