Today is Robyn and I's 10 year wedding anniversary.
Today I took Emmy to get her second covid vaccine.
A little less than a month ago, I got my own second vaccination. An event that I cried with sheer relief about and went out of my way to do something I hadn't done in over a year: knit a shawl for an actual occasion.
It felt like a momentous occasion that needed something pretty to celebrate.
In fact, we took these pictures the same day as my vaccination appointment.
I was relieved, grateful, and hopeful. I thought things were finally, FINALLY changing for the better. I thought my dearest friends and I were somehow going to make it through this.
We were going to be together soon. We'd be able to laugh and hug and be grateful that we could do that.
A little less than a month ago, my world was ripped apart. My heart shredded to pieces.
I lost my best friend, my Bethany.
She died from covid.
She was a month older than me. A month.
I'm not ready to talk about it. I can't.
And today has been a bitter reminder of everything I have that she never will.
She was beautiful. And so fucking clever and witty. And always on board with whatever mad schemes I could come up. Or eagerly recruiting me for hers.
I'll never forget the entire day we spent together speaking only in British accents. And I could always rely on her to join me in International Talk Like A Pirate Day.
I knit my shawl for my appointment out of yarn I dyed myself. Yarn that wouldn't exist without Bethany's love and support.
It's not fair.
A childish statement, I know.
But it's not and my heart can't accept it.
It's not fair that I am here alive, breathing, making beautiful things, loving and loved so dearly, and my best friend is gone.
I survived this fucking pandemic and she didn't.
I was able and allowed to get my vaccine. She couldn't.
Bitter fucking medicine indeed.
