I read it in print, I heard it in TV, radio...in our country, more than two hundred thousand persons have died in the last six months of 2020.

The number toys in my eardrums, scalds my brain; it's a number, a cold and frosty number. I try to imagine it from my personal point of view, as trying to reach a hand to someone ... and to feel his absence in my own flesh.

My husband says to imagine a football field jam-packed with families and children; maybe at the end of a prized annual season.
I can see it now, a sea of yearning persons, clamoring together, eager for the fun and excitement of a game.

And now that number starts to have a shape, maybe a name, the smell of their sweat, the shadows of their bodies.

And suddenly I do feel like mourning.

Years ago, we went to Washington DC and our main stop was the Vietnam Memorial Wall.

I walked in prayer, slowly, as if I was stepping onto sacrosanct ground. I extended my right hand and touched their names, feeling like an intimate connection with their souls. The imprint of each of their names was different, like they were when they died. That day, I felt connected, and I was able to mourn for each one of them.

Just a thought, in deep reverence, because their silence stills my soul.
May they rest in peace...