An OPEN LETTER to my daughter Amanda …
You are my soldier now.
Your brother went off to war in 2001 to fight an invisible enemy in the Middle East, and now it’s you on the front lines of this coronavirus crisis.
Michael put his life on the line to prevent another 9/11 so lives could be saved, and he’s continued that mission with the Wheeling Vet Center. You, though, for the past 17 years, have saved lives and also grieved for those who have passed. You have a kind-albeit-feisty soul, but you hate failure, and you don’t quit. Just like your brother and your mother.
But now this. A freakin’ pandemic right up your alley. The COVID-19 coronavirus is a respiratory disease, of course, and much of what we hear from government officials concerns the lack of personal protection equipment and the need for thousands of ventilators. Listen love, the fact I even know what the hell “PPE” stands for now is one thing, but the fact many are missing is that heart attacks and car crashes are still happening, and you and your co-workers are handling those cases, too.
The behemoth bother for me, though, is not knowing the next time I will be able to hug you. Our nightly phone calls are both awesome and frightening, I have to be honest, because, to hear you healthy after each workday is the best part, but the worst involves the risks you explain and the worries you have.
You say things like “When the shit hits the fan,” and “I may have to start living at the hospital if half the staff is out” … and that reminds of me of, “Hey Dad, I’m going out on a mission in the morning, and I’m not sure when I’ll be online again.”
Shivers.
So, I will tell you what I told Michael then, perhaps a bit of advice that helped bring him home safe and sound: “Just remember who you are fighting for and how important that is to you. If you do it the right way, afterward you will come home, and then we will celebrate your victory.”
“I’m trying to stay positive, Dad,” you told me last evening. “We all are.”
You may not think I listen sometimes, but I always hear you, my daughter, because I love you, I admire you, and I am proud of you.
Sincerely,
“Stevie Wonder”
