I pulled my cell phone from my pocket, steeling myself to call my grandma in a nursing home some 500 miles away in Ohio. Why is this so hard? Before Covid, I looked forward to these calls. I thought of them as doing my part to help care for her. Now I wondered if I was making any difference in the face of a deadly pandemic, especially one that was hitting care facilities so hard.
Quickly I reviewed the list of things I’d come up with to tell her, the latest games my three-year-old, Amelia, was into: baking cakes for stuffed animals and dancing to Baby Shark with her brother. The word combinations, Jack, now two, was saying: “Doggie, woof. Daddy, bye bye.” Silly stuff Grandma delighted in hearing.
Grandma was more than a grandma to me. I was 12 when I went to live with her while my parents split up. She’d supported my dream of going into the Air Force and so many other things. I wanted to be there for her now if only over the phone. Ordinarily I’d make time to visit, but her facility was in lockdown. Those restrictions should have reassured me that she was safe. Instead, it felt as if she were living on the moon. I couldn’t imagine what Grandma was going through in such isolation. She was 98. Macular degeneration made it impossible for her to read. Or even watch TV. I understood the need for isolation, but separation carried its own health risks.
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة May 2021 من Guideposts.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 8500 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك ? تسجيل الدخول
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة May 2021 من Guideposts.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 8500 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك? تسجيل الدخول
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