Covid, again…

The last two weeks have been all about Covid for me. As I write this I’m amazed that it’s only been two weeks, the time feels like a month has passed of being sick. Covid… strep throat… both hit me hard and I’m still recovering. The lethargy is still with me, and the deep cough makes my muscles ache.

Yet, through this all, I’m thankful that I am healing, for my dear Randy did not heal from Covid. I’ve thought of him often these last two weeks, remembering the fear in continually getting worse. When sick, we look forward to the day that we wake, turn a corner, and start feeling stronger. Yet that day didn’t come for him… each day was worse. He had panic moments, where the reality of continually worsening dawned on him. One of those moments, over a video call, in a panicked voice almost a scream, death hit him… I’m dying Donna, I’m dying… We looked deep into each other’s eyes, no words… Death, death you were a shock to Randy, a cruel shock.

Death’s shock has hit me in these days that have followed death… that shock shows up unannounced and unexpected at any moment. I don’t have Randy’s eyes to gaze, so I scream to my God until it passes. The shock moments are fewer and rare now at 3 years, thankfully.

So as I recover, peace has been with me… a peace that I haven’t had in years. A deep peace that whatever God has for my tomorrow, I’ll be okay, only because God has got my back. The grip of life has loosened over me, and I have loosened my grip holding life. To stay or to go, either way peace has found me. To know that someone loves me deeply, knows my being through and through, and has the means to care for me… this God has given me peace and comfort and the courage to keep facing each day.

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