This is not a story about a rug.
I woke up early on Friday morning after staying up late moving furniture and organizing my home office to be ready for a beautiful new rug from the exclusive retailer of the finest homegoods, Overstock.com. I ordered it on Monday, March 27th, just 5 days earlier (or approximately 40 billion weeks in quarantine time). I am so, so excited to finally make this room livable after treating it like a junk pile with a door since we moved in 18-months ago.
When four people are confined to one house indefinitely, it's imperative to MAXIMIZE space. The day had come and once the rug went down, everything would be in the right place.
Then the notification pinged my cell phone: delivery had been moved from Friday to Monday. Three days. I used the free shipping option and we're in a GD pandemic, so waiting a few extra days is miniscule, but for that instant I felt more devastated than I can remember ever feeling. Crushed. I cried genuine tears.
Sulking like a 38-year old toddler while unimaginably horrible things are happening to countless people and society is on the brink of permanent change, I realized "this is how my kids feel."
This is how my kids feel when they have to use the orange plate or don't get to climb into the car first or some other thing equally as stupid as being asked to wait three extra days following a self-imposed 18-month delay. In that moment, if someone had told me to "get over it" or "it's only a few days" or "it could be worse, people are dying" or, the worst of all "here's a shiny object, please suppress your feelings" I would have responded...impolitely. But, that's what I do to my kids all. the. time.
I know I'm not actually sad about the rug or the three days. There is sad and scary stuff happening everywhere and it's hard to wrap my head (and heart) around it. Overwhelming is an understatement.
I'm terrified about how this situation is impacting the most vulnerable members of our community. I'm sad to see kids treated like they are "underfoot" in their own homes because some manager felt a global pandemic wasn't worth giving the team a few days to reorient their lives. I'm outraged for students expected to learn via screen in the midst of a crisis, being told their performance matters more than their experience.
I’m afraid. I feel powerless. I feel like a kid.
The rug represents a lot right now -- a sense of control in uncertainty, a distraction from tragedy, a solution to wasted time and space -- and it really ties this story together.
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When I started this newsletter in January, I wanted to help people talk to kids about death. Just a few months later, the world is radically different and I'm not sure how to continue talking about these things. You can help me figure out how (or if) I should proceed by filling out this anonymous survey: https://www.dailylifeanddeath.com/tell-me
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As always, you can find me on Instagram at @daily.life.death or email me directly at megan@805funerals.com. If you know someone who would enjoy this, I hope you'll send it along.