My friend Richard Pretorius, an American stuck for now in Madrid, not normally any kind of hardship, resumes his part of Salut!'s Covid-19 Diaries series with a heartwarming letter to his late mother ....
Dear Mom:
I write to you from Madrid to which I returned to get help in moving forward after my closest friend's suicide.
Movement is now limited in the spectacular city with wowing architecture and stunning beauty in all its forms as well as bars offering free tapas and the most inviting conversations. You know how I thrive in such environments. Ah, yes, I do love Spain.
It fits me like the worn tennis shoes you would gently urge me to throw away. Never going to happen. You knew that.
We are in the midst of a pandemic caused by a virus emanating from China. As you no doubt also know, I scattered some of your ashes along the Great Wall on the trip I took after you departed in 2006. I lived in vibrant, crowded Hong Kong for about four years starting in 2013 and learned the Chinese mindset is a tough one for friendly, curious Westerners to penetrate.
Unlike the Spaniards or my treasured Lebanese friends, they do not tend to step out of their self-drawn boxes and invite you in. However, individually they can be as welcoming as anyone.
The distrust between the cultures and nations is only likely to grow as the disease caused by the novel coronavirus has killed around 200,000 people.
My heart bleeds for Spain, whose death toll is fast approaching the population of Winchester. Imagine the city in which you taught English and raised two children being wiped out by a virus in the age of smartphones and movies on demand.
Speaking of which, I have greatly missed taking you to the cinema, sharing a bowl of popcorn and getting ice cream afterwards. Simple pleasures. Priceless in their value. I think many are realising that reality anew during their locked-down days and nights.
You grew up during the Great Depression and served in the Women's Army Corps during World War II. You know the emotional and lasting entanglements of scarring deprivation and great sacrifice. Some are calling the coronavirus pandemic and its economic fallout the current generational equivalent. Only time will tell on that.
But it seems a stretch to compare dodging bombs and bullets and fearing a Nazi takeover with staying home to avoid catching a virus, no matter how potentially deadly.
Social distancing is the catchphrase of the moment. While you devoured murder mysteries and General Hospital's never-ending plots and subplots of romance and betrayal, being among friends and the Falls Church relatives had you in your perfect element
Holly Pretorius and her son are the most unlikely of social distancers.
By now your head is no doubt spinning. Your expectations of my spending the rest of my working days teaching journalism in Australia and meeting up with Nick and his family from time to time took a slight; rather incredible detour
I have become a bit of a world wandering nomad since I kissed your forehead and said goodbye for now after you had taken your last breath in 2006.
Despite the horrors of the moment, I would not trade what I have seen and experienced or the friends I have made for anything.
I close with a few stories emblematic of your kindness-always-wins-the-day lessons.
Yesterday I had a long chat with a woman I care for deeply about living in the moment while going forward despite unforeseen obstacles.
Our relationship is not one that would have given you those grandchildren I failed to provide. Sorry about that.
But we click and we care and that is the greatest security blanket there is for a lone wanderer in troubled times.
She is a Ukrainian classical pianist with a doctorate and one of my most treasured friends. How about that?
The other story could be said to have more of your General Hospital twist to it. But the dance was never going my way. We share skills with words and life-altering scars. And we most certainly click in a soulful way; too
We had not communicated in months. But we both have an affinity for posting little vignettes about our ventures and by doing so hopefully sharing a bit of the rocking worlds we are privileged to roam.
I glanced at her Facebook page and read a post about her New York City neighbourhood making the best of locked-down life much in the same manner as mine was in Madrid. Song and cheers and balcony and porch connections wrapping a ribbon around the common humanity.
I sent her a little message about that with the hope that she was keeping safe and thriving as best she could.
I am my mother's son after all.
I am always going to care. Empathy is one of my best character traits.
I think I know where I got that from.
Love,
Richard
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