Riding the Wave, 29 & 30. Close to Home.

Melancholy. 

That is what I am feeling today. Listening to songs from the seventies on an "oldies but goodies" television program, and riffling through photos from my childhood vacations here in Spain, has put me in a teary mood. Last night I had a long phone conversation with someone in which I learned awful news.

The damned devil virus has struck close. My father's only nephew, my only first cousin on his side, has contracted it, as have some of his family members. But he has been in delicate health for over a year, and this devil, this Satan demon, has put him in the ICU, intubated. 

He is old enough to be my father, because his mother was thirteen years my father's senior. Yet, I never treated him as an elder, but as an equal, possibly because the word "cousin" to me meant to my childhood mind someone on my level within the family, never an elder like my parents or my aunt and uncle. His daughter is just four years younger than me. We haven't spoken in a while, like family members do, because life goes on in different directions. Yet, every time we see each other, we still stop and talk like we saw each other yesterday, and will talk at length just about everything. At least, that has always been the case with everyone in his family, but especially his daughter. I remember when I came here on vacation in 1978; I was nine, and she was five. After the first shy few minutes, she started talking, and just didn't stop. Since then, I have never felt shy around her or her parents.

Yesterday evening, I was doing my shopping when I got a text message asking about my cousin. The person asking was a distant cousin from the same side, and had heard that he was in the hospital. I knew nothing, so I called his daughter. He has Covid. It turns out that they have no idea how he could have gotten infected. A person who came over on a Sunday visit, and who works at the cannery in Boiro, tested positive after the visit. So, the entire family, my cousin, his wife, his son, daughter, and son-in-law, got tested. My cousin, his wife, and his son-in-law tested positive, the others negative. They don't understand if it was the visit, or if one of them had brought it home from work earlier. 

My cousin started with a slight fever, and a persistent cough. His daughter has an oxygen meter, the kind that goes on your finger, and when his level fell to 80, she called the clinic, which ordered an ambulance. At first, he was admitted to the hospital in a regular room in the Covid area, but he got worse, and a couple of days ago was taken to the ICU, where he was intubated. He has bilateral pneumonia.

Now comes the anxious time for the family. They can't leave the house. There are worries that those who tested negative will test positive, and quarantine time be prolonged. No one can go to the hospital to see him. The updates from the hospital are short and to the point. And the regrets are long.  

My cousin's daughter went on about how she wouldn't make him some sweet bread a few weeks ago, when he asked for it, because he's diabetic. What would have changed having given in to his indulgence, if he was going to get this sick now? But we never know. She denied him the sweet bread in the interest of his health, to take care of him. No one could know what was coming. In his life, he has enjoyed sweet bread, and many other things. Life is a collection of moments. When we reach a certain age, what we have is an accumulation of good moments we've enjoyed, bad moments we've suffered through and overcome, and little else but love that has built up through the years. It doesn't matter that we haven't eaten one last piece of sweet bread. It matters that we have done so in the past and that there is love in the present that looks out for us. 

I hate 2020.

Life continues. For the rest of us.