I've been sending a video each morning to my grandchildren. It's one way of keeping in touch with them, as I miss them sorely. And it's an extension of what I have done with them at naptime or when we rock in the rocking chair; make up stories with them as the protagonist. So far, they have been bunnies, ducks, kittens and crocodiles. I think ahead of time about what I want to say, but write nothing down, I just wing it. It's fun for me as well. The hardest part is seeing my face in the video: the crooked teeth, the wrinkles, the splotchy skin, the disheveled hair. Oh, boy, I am not a sight to see!
A deeper part of me faces the uncertainty I will ever see them again, given the COVID 19 and my age and vulnerability. This may be my final testament to my love for them. Last night I spoke on the phone with a friend who is 90, and she said to me that she might be dead soon, but her will was in order and she was communicating with her grandkids by phone. She was able to laugh and still was concerned about a mutual friend that she was afraid was too isolated. I was able to assure her the friend was fine and I'd had a walk with her this week. She faces her death but with compassion for others. We are all attempting to do that, to be our best selves in this crisis, and to have each tiny, ordinary act be one we are proud of.
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