Can COVID-19 Pass Through Tears? I'm Asking for a Friend.
Can the novel coronavirus pass through tears? Like the kind that might squeeze out at the end of Into The Spiderverse when Miles hugs his dad as Spiderman? Or like when Pam watches the video Jim got the documentary crew to make showing how they fell in love? Or like when Kevin Kline realizes he isn’t ready for love, after the death of his wife, while on a date with his real estate agent in the movie Dean? I’m asking for a friend.
Full disclosure there is no friend, or I am the friend. I’m the one who has cried. Those are very specific examples, and they were easy to come up with because all of those moments brought tears to my eyes over the past few weeks. Some of many. They haven’t been crying jags or even brought on by moments of sadness. They are just there.
I notice it in my nose first. That first moment of snottiness, and then my eyes brim with the salty brine of emotions. Sometimes I can pull back, and push them back down into whatever reservoir they live in. Sometimes Pam starts to cry. Then Jim starts to cry, and then I have to get up in the middle of the night to get some tissue because I’m losing it.
Why is this happening? I can only come up with two answers. The first is that I have been watching way more Netflix, and The Office is a drama disguised as a comedy. The second is that this pandemic, the news about it, the response from the people who are supposed to be our leaders, the fear of falling sick, the stress of buying groceries, and the loss of socializing has created this black, wet fog weighing me and us down. It lays atop us providing pressure pushing our emotions to the brink. It takes only the slightest bit of tugging on the heartstrings to open the dam gates letting the tears cannonball over the lips of our eyelids.
They haven’t been all bad tears. They haven’t been all good. Mostly they have just existed, and that latch that lets me control when they arrive has worn out. It’s no more than a swinging saloon door opening when pushed. What inspires them is beyond me. A moment in a show, a phrase in a book or a neighbor leaving out lemons to share can all inspire a misty eye. They’re coming or they aren’t, and there is nothing I can do about it.
And that’s okay. These universally heightened moments seem to be happening more often the further I get in to this life. War, economic crashes, terrorism, school shootings, and climate change. Most of which I don’t seem to have control of, and you don’t have control of, and it is hard to tell if anyone is even steering the ship. Those tears are reminders that I haven’t yet been worn numb. That I still have control over my own actions, my own impacts and how I spend the time I have. Those tears, sad or happy, are good tears, but I don’t want them to be the reason someone else gets sick.
Can COVID-19 pass through tears? I’m asking for me.