There are three black facemasks hanging off my turn signal switch. They are crisp and ready to cover my nose and mouth if I so choose. There is another one that I used last week when I visited my doctor’s office.
Those masks and the hand sanitizer, still in my glove compartment, are reminders of the recommended line of defense for the past three years in the war to survive the deadly COVID-19 virus. At least 1 million people have died in this country since COVID emerged in the U.S. in 2020. At least 18,000 have died in Louisiana.
Now, as of Thursday, the COVID-19 public health emergency in the U.S. is over. But those are just words. The death toll, disruption of lives and upheaval from the pandemic will echo for years to come. I know it will for me.
I think about the friends, relatives, courageous hospital staff and others who lost their lives. I still see their faces, remember their names and feel pain.
I am still concerned about the school children who fell behind in their education because COVID kept them out of classrooms while they had little or no chance to learn virtually. I hurt for them because some of them may never catch up.
Then there’s the personal stuff.
I can’t get over the phone call I received one Saturday morning from a high school classmate, her voice breaking as she told me that our lifelong friend had died of COVID.
I didn’t want to believe it. I actually drove to her house, a block away from me, hoping she would answer the door. Her son opened the door and said, “Yes, Mr. Pratt, she died last night.”
I miss the lady at work who had a ready smile and kind words for me when I came by. She went home one day and never returned. COVID.
Then there was the close friend whose son died of complications from COVID. I could feel the pain in her voice as she explained that he was not a believer in the COVID vaccinations, nor in the wearing of masks. It was devastating.
It was heart-wrenching to hear stories of victims begging people to take the disease seriously as they were gasping their last breaths.
I can still feel the concern of my wife and her sister as their then 85-year-old mother bravely fought for her life, stealing minutes by minutes against COVID, spending weeks in hospitals before overcoming what seemed an unwinnable fight.
Then there was the president of the United States who said COVID could go away in April 2020, then followed that up in May 2020 saying, “Well I feel about vaccines like I feel about tests. This is going to go away without a vaccine ...” Then he later suggested using a disinfectant to kill COVID.
Now, COVID’s deadly effects have subsided. The vaccines have worked along with the determination of the people willing to wear their masks and accept other precautions. But COVID will still be around, and I will take whatever vaccines prescribed.
As we approach Mother’s Day, I feel for the families who lost mothers to COVID. I pray for them, and I pray for the mothers who lost children, grandchildren and spouses to the disease.
Fight as I did, taking the vaccines and wearing the mask, I contracted COVID and it unfortunately stopped me from attending the funeral of a much-loved friend and high school classmate. I was supposed to speak at the funeral, but I believed that I should stay away. I still hurt.
Tomorrow, I will be interested to see how many members of my church continue to wear masks during Sunday services. If the masks are gone from most of them, I will smile and feel like it’s really time to move on.
Email Edward Pratt, a former newspaperman, at epratt1972@yahoo.com.