Queen Elizabeth II called 1992 her "annus horribilus". (That was the year Princess Diana died and the Queen took a lot of flack for her apparent lack of empathy.)
2020 is turning into my "annus horribilus". It began in January with the death of my mother. While it was not unexpected, it was still somewhat surprising as her final decline was a rapid two or three days. A month later, the pandemic began and all the plans I had made for the year crashed and burned. I had decided in late 2019 that I would retire from my part-time job on April 30, with the intention of spending my newly free time largely on work with local community theaters. Before I hit my last day of work, all the community theaters closed up shop and have remained closed.
All our usual "fun things" have not been possible this year. Our annual get-together with SF fans in the spring was cancelled. Plans to see my family at a memorial for Mom in June have been postponed until next June at the earliest. Thanksgiving, of course, was a bust, save for a three-hour Zoom meeting with our children.
And now, one last blow. My mother-in-law died over the weekend. My wife is depressed--not so much because of the loss of her mother (like mine, we knew this was coming), but by the limited ways we can deal with the situation. At the moment, we will make a 24-hour trip to West Virginia this weekend for the burial, along with just a handful of her children and grandchildren. Any larger memorial will have to wait until later this year.
A year bookended with personal deaths and filled with misery of every kind in between.
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