This is the 11th installment in our What’s on your mind? series and was written by CCJ Community Organizer Heaven Sensky.
When our current crisis broke out, my dad, Jeremi, was vacationing in Florida. Since then he hasn’t been able to leave, and he and my mom have been sheltering in place, fearful. Today marks 34 days since I’ve seen my dad. 34 days since I’ve hugged him, 34 days since I’ve been able to make him a meal, 34 days since I could protect him. Every morning I wake up, and I am reminded of the surreal reality that there is a chance I may never see him again.
I’ve been caring for my dad, alongside my mom, for 20 years (most of my life). Most caregivers these days are feeling immense grief, fear, and more distress than we have ever endured in our entire lives. If you know a caregiver, you probably know that our lives are stressful as it is. We worry about our loved ones, we work hard to keep them taken care of and feeling safe. We fight every day to make life more equitable for them. We hold doors for people, we are courteous of accessible parking, and we love when a restaurant asks if we may need assistance in cutting that beautiful ribeye we order at the steakhouse on a special occasion. We struggle financially, and we depend on government resources that help to keep those we care for alive. When Social Security, food stamps, disability, and healthcare access is debated on television, they’re talking about us. When you hear of the “at-risk population,” they’re talking about us.
I am so frightened that my dad may become ill, or that my mom, who is caring for him, may become ill that I am grieving what feels like the greatest loss of my life. My body aches, I have a lump in my throat that makes me tearful, and every day is a whirlwind of getting by.
But, nevertheless we are doing it. In fact, we are doing it so well that I have never felt more connected to the people in my life. Seeing all of you on social media holding the line for our service workers, our healthcare workers, and our sanitation workers has given me more hope than I’ve ever known before. To the folks who are sharing, commenting, and posting over and over that they are staying home for people they don’t even know, I cannot express how much gratitude I feel. Thank you.
Dad and I have talked a minimum of 15 times a day. We are still sharing laughter over the phone and memes of The Tiger King over Facebook. We’re sharing our fears, and our hopes, and our plans for how we are going to work hard to make the world a better place after all of this passes. We are sharing our ideas for picket signs in the revolution… and I’m so proud to be staying home for him. I’m proud to be staying home for you and your family, too.
To you who are reading, and feeling with me, I am grateful. To the children in our community that are singing two “Happy Birthday” songs while washing their hands, and to the parents leaning over them telling them to do it, I am grateful.
In our massive movement to stay home, we have enforced a social structure that respects our most vulnerable. Despite our social distancing, we have never been more close to one another. I have never been more proud to be a part of something.
To the grandparents raising displaced children in our community as a result of the opioid epidemic, we’re staying home for you. To all of the folks in the healthcare field, grocery stores, sanitation, gas stations, even beer distributors, we’re staying home for you. To all who have lost their jobs, to all who are home with frightened children, to all who are about to give birth, to all who are caregiving, to all who are at risk, we’re staying home for you.
Despite uncertainty for what tomorrow will bring, we can be hopeful. Not only have we learned to be more grateful for the people in our lives and the time we get to spend with them, but we will shine a light on our flaws as a community and we will never again step forth without thinking of those who are vulnerable. Our responsibility to each other is something we can be proud of; it is always worth fighting for one another.
You can find local resources during the COVID-19 crisis by clicking here.
If you need someone to talk to, have questions about how CCJ is continuing to hold polluters accountable, or to learn more about how you can get involved in our journey to support each other, you can email the CCJ team at info@centerforcoalfieldjustice.org or by calling 724-229-3550.
