2020 Can Go Suck It
So far, 2020 is a year when I can’t see people I love, when I can’t hear the music live that I want to hear, when the world is falling apart at the seams, and when tyranny has become the rule of the day.
A year when the resurgence from winter into spring was stymied because we were stuck inside to keep ourselves from dying or from spreading a virus to others who might die. A year when summer has been spent behind window glass glancing outside – not a baseball game to be seen, not a swim club to be enjoyed.
It is a year in which a man tinted Easter-egg-dye-orange tries to define reality through the warped lens of his own imagination. And his imagination wants to take us to a dark, dark world.
It is a year in which pandemic has become a word that is part of our everyday lives.
It has become a year in which I have memorial services to attend, and I don’t know when those memorial services will take place, or if they even ever will. People who were dearly close to me are gone, and I don’t know when or if we will ever have the opportunity to come together to celebrate their lives.
Here’s my tally-
- An icon taken by glioblastoma
- A mentor taken by Covid
- A friend taken – again – by glioblastoma
- Another friend (and boss), taken by a tragedy I don’t and likely won’t understand
A year of mortality.
A year of confronting the temporary nature of everything.
A year of learning how each moment is a gift, and the next cannot be taken for granted.
Today, right now, is August 1, 2020. That’s five years since Rush played their final concert ever at the Los Angeles Coliseum. Tonight we’re watching Time Stand Still, the documentary from that tour and of its final shows.
It’s a good thing to do. A worthy thing to do. It brings back good memories of years gone by – of getting together with dear friends and going to see and hear great music together.
And I hope that it’s also a reminder that we will do so again, and that there are friendships yet to be forged and memories yet to be made.