It was a beautifully sunny and crisp day to be home nesting. My husband had left for work and I had taken the day off to ready the nursery for the birth of our first children — identical twin boys. Heavily pregnant, I lumbered down the stairs, flipped on the TV, and prepped my breakfast feeling happy about the day ahead.
It was Sept. 11, 2001, a day that began with hope and ended with unfathomable heartbreak and grief.
My mom stopped by to help with the nursery, but instead we huddled together in front of the TV watching horrific scenes unfold in real time. I will never forget putting a hand on my huge belly, wondering what kind of world I was bringing these babies into and feeling grateful that they were still safe and protected in the womb.
My twins were born on Dec. 9, 2001. They are now high school seniors, members of the fateful Class of 2020, born in the shadow of the worst terrorist attack in our nation’s history and set to graduate in the midst of a terrifying global pandemic.
On March 11, our school district announced that schools would be shuttered immediately, with all activities canceled. Similar to 9/11, we had no warning that 3/11 would be our last day of normalcy for a long time. My husband and I now have four boys: a first-grader, a high school freshman and the twins. All four boys came home that day to the new normal of self-quarantine and physical separation from friends and extended family, including their grandparents.
One of my seniors has disability issues, and his final Individualized Education Program meeting was supposed to be last week. It was to be a meeting of goodbyes and thank-yous to the many staff, teachers and specialists who have been by our sides since kindergarten. My son has weathered 26 surgeries over the past 18 years but always kept up with his schooling. We remain hopeful (though it’s looking unlikely) that he will don a cap and gown and receive his hard-earned diploma along with his twin brother in front of friends and family. In the scheme of the pandemic, with lives being lost daily, this is a small sacrifice, but it’s still hard to grapple with. It’s these moments that students, parents and grandparents look forward to.
Instead, we’ve been sheltered in place at home for more than three weeks and our boys haven’t had face-to-face interaction with anyone but us. We don’t leave the house other than to take a quick walk around our block. My husband has left twice in the past three weeks to get the necessary groceries to keep everyone fed. One of our twins loves his job at Trader Joe’s, but he can’t work right now because his asthma puts him in a high-risk category for covid-19.
My twins understand that these measures are crucial, and they’ve been truly amazing in their positive, helpful attitudes, but I want them to know that despite what’s happening in the world, it’s okay to feel sadness and disappointment over the loss of regular life compounded by the loss of a milestone year. This is the time they’ve looked forward to and worked so hard for, but it ended before it began.
No prom, no senior trip, no decorating their car with “Class of 2020” written all over it and driving around town. No hanging out with friends, enjoying the privileges and all the fun and hope that this time brings for any graduating class. No “lasts” to savor, and most likely no graduation ceremony. College acceptances have come in, but the colleges are closed indefinitely. My boys’ future is on a long, hard pause.
I texted a friend whose son was sent home from his freshman year at college because of the pandemic and she said about my boys: “Very hard. No matter the reason, doesn’t change the loss.” And she’s right. We’ve focused so much on how important social distancing is, and we pray for the health and safety of family, friends and those on the front lines of this insidious virus, but it’s okay to feel our own sadness, too. Loss is loss.
This Class of 2020 has had to deal with school shootings, drills and many other things that we never coped with. They are facing an uncertain world right now and need us more than ever, to be sheltering arms and listening ears.
Being inspired by the heroes in this has changed their perspective. Despite being together 24/7 with zero privacy for any of us, there are fewer frays and more letting go of minor transgressions among brothers. There’s an innate understanding and grace that only a time of crisis brings. I asked one of my twins the other night how he was really doing with it all and he said, “I’m taking it one day at a time, and that’s all I can do right now.”
Eventually, life will slowly get back to normal and go on just like it did after 9/11. Someday, when my twins have their own kids, they might not be able to pull out their senior prom pictures or graduation photos, but they can share what living through a pandemic was like and be better able to give strength to the next generation facing their own inevitable difficulties.
Laura Richards is a freelance writer based in Massachusetts. She writes about parenting, lifestyle, health and travel. Find her on Twitter @ModMothering.
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