‘There’ s no substitute for being able to hug our grandchildren’
It was a moment I will never forget no matter how long the lockdown continues. Shortly after the social distancing and stay-at-home rules came into force on March 17, two of my grandchildren, who live directly across the street from myself and my wife Eileen, were with their mum at our gateway.
As we emerged from our front door, four-year-old Katie shouted “Nanny” and “Grandad” and made to run towards us.
When we called on her to stop, the excited look vanished from her face to be replaced by one of puzzlement, even disappointment. It was obvious she did not understand why we were seemingly rejecting her.
She jumped into her mum’s arms and buried her face in her shoulder. She was on the verge of tears.
That moment summed up how coronavirus has impacted on the closest family relationships. We have 10 grandchildren — we have only seen the three who live in Fermanagh and one in Carrickfergus online since lockdown.
The others can come to our home and speak to us from the roadway, but, without being unduly sentimental, that is no substitute for being able to give them a hug or sit with them and listen to their stories and questions.
Nevertheless, we are lucky.
I cannot imagine how it is for people who live alone, or as a couple, but who are unable to even leave their homes for the daily exercise and who have no family to call on them, even electronically.
Yet, these are surreal days. For us, it means rising later than normal, having breakfast and going online to view daily Mass.
I certainly would not have been someone who would have attended church outside of the normal Sundays or Holy Days, but viewing Mass from a neighbouring parish gives a structure to the beginning of the day.
It is also a time for reflection and the belief that God can bring hope to a seemingly hopeless situation of a pandemic with no known cure and which has brought the world to its knees, both literally and metaphorically.
Eileen and I have been strict in observing the lockdown. No one has entered our home since it began and we leave only to go for a daily walk, most often around the area where we live, but sometimes a little further.
A surprising side-effect of the walk around the estate is “meeting” other people we had never spoken to before — that is, saying “hello” from a safe distance.
Strangely, people seemed more relaxed and friendly now that the pace of life had changed so dramatically.
The unseasonably good weather which accompanied the lockdown was a godsend. Had it happened in the preceding months, when it seemed we were living in a rainforest, the inability to get outdoors would have been much more wearing.
As it was, we were able to draw up a list of tasks to do outdoors.
A serious length of fencing was given a fresh lick of paint until it ran out and then we realised it would be easier to find gold at the end of a rainbow than even order a mid-brown fence paint.
I’m with Edwin Poots: reopen the garden centres.
Cutting the grass, digging borders and weeding all provided exercise, diversion and was surprisingly therapeutic.
Tune into Spotify and it was possible to pass a few hours with ease.
We are lucky in that a local Supervalu outlet runs a very speedy delivery service for the immediate neighbourhood. Simply phone in the order, pay over the phone and it will be with us inside an hour.
This is a tremendous service. Sure, it is not possible to see the full range of goods on offer, but it provides all the essentials.
We also discovered an online butcher. While deliveries took a couple of days, the wait was well worth it.
Every food delivery is accompanied by the ritual of wiping down the products, followed by rigorous handwashing, but it beats the trolley dash, which is the only alternative.
Online shopping for non-food products is a boon, but with inherent drawbacks.
Now, due to increased demand, delivery times can be sporadic, ranges curtailed and, as my wife points out, you cannot feel the fabrics, or see what the clothes, for example, would be like on a normal person, instead of a stick-thin model.
The new normal of life may restrict our freedoms, but the alternative is much worse.
Just ask any of the hundreds of families who have lost loved ones to the virus.