I can hardly believe that it has been two years since my son Magnus, left this earth. He was 20, just months from his 21st birthday, and he was so mentally ill he couldn’t go in living. I get through the grief of losing my little boy, my baby, by picturing him flying in a yellow house, balloons above his head.
Here we are, two years later. We’re quarantined inside our houses, fighting our way through the Coronavirus Pandemic. I never thought of this on the horizon, but I never thought of my son’s death, before mine, on the horizon either. The virus is yet another mountain we must climb, this one together.
This journey, like mine with Magnus, is and will be filled with sorrow and grief. We are in California and we have just started our climb to the top of the hill of cases. Our family is healthy, I like to think that Mags is watching over everyone he cares about and putting in a good word. Individuals, families, businesses, governments, everything and everyone, the world over, has and will continue to change. We may lose an untold number of people, financial stability, our very freedom that we have taken for granted. We need to stay strong, support one another, help those that need help. We will come out on the other side, bruised, battered and broken, but we will emerge, hopefully smarter and stronger. This is a war, a war that we will win.
Mags, please help us all, we need all the help we can get. I’m sure you’re keeping track of the statistics and rolling your eyes at the morons that were partying on the beach.
Magnus leaves me feathers on my path for me to find when I’m out. At least I like to think that every feather I find was dropped in place by him, just for me. I’m sure today is a flying day for him. Fly high Mags, be free, peace to you at last. Love you, miss you, you have no idea how much. I hope he leaves a feather for you too.