At this time two years ago I’d never heard of Covid-19. I’d never imagined living through a world-wide pandemic–those were the stuff of science fiction tales. It had never occurred to me to wear a mask when leaving my house, or that I would need to isolate myself from friends and family. But those things became a reality in 2020, and then became less important this year with the advent of vaccines. Unfortunately, in a bizarre pendulum swing, the disease is on the rise again.
Despite Covid being as yet unknown, August 2019 was still a rough month for my family.
At this time two years ago I was in Montana for my brother’s funeral. A brother I loved dearly and still miss sorely. I’d seen him just two months before his death, and will always cherish the memory of that trip. I’m so glad we were able to take it, and I’m so grateful that the travel restrictions and social distancing of 2020 didn’t rob me of that last visit with him. I mourn for other families to whom fate has not been so kind.
Mike and I shared a love of words and writing. Novels and short stories for me; cowboy poetry for him. A year before his death, his son arranged for time in a recording studio with Mike reading / reciting some of his favorite works. (You can find one below his picture.)
He had a wonderful voice. What a blessing to be able to hear it again after two long years.
