MUSIC, CORONAVIRUS, AND CERTAIN DEATH, Take 2: SAY NO.
|This Morning: Signs of Peace at the Beach.|
She shared her feelings with a few friends and relations. Every one of those well-meaning sweethearts had an opinion.
Some (her) suspected The Virus, and she assured herself that it was probably Lyme and that Lyme would actually be a relief. (Did she ever imagine she'd wish for Lyme?)
Some (all) assured her it's not The Virus. All except her doctor, that is, who ordered a COVID-19 test. (And who has more authority in this particular situation, I ask you?) She drove herself, half blind, to the drive-thru testing site a half hour away. Then started biting her toenails (not while driving).
Some (many; most in fact) suggested stress. And they hadn't even seen the toenail thing at that stage.
Some (two) just kept checking in and offered prayer, but didn't use that exact word because they know better. Even though they have massive pull in that category.
Some (one) said fear. And thyroid. That particular friend is often right.
Some (one) said nothing. Because the sick person didn't tell the other person she was ill. That person has enough on their plate already and those two rely on each other too much. Who needs a dying friend, anyway?
Some (everyone) was glad to hear, after the negative results, that she wasn't dying—at least not this week.
Someone (our heroine) wrote an essay back in March, at the very outset of the pandemic, titled "Music, Coronavirus, and Certain Death: Say Yes." If we have made music and touched others' lives, she wrote, our time here has been worth it, and we can die in peace.
You know what she says to that now?
Die in peace? Is that a thing?
Super cute, but... no. At least not this week.