评论
打印
I've spent my entire adult life far from my family and many of the people I'm closest to, so I've often had to rely on letters and texts and calls to maintain these important connections, let the people I love know what I'm feeling. I have long been confident in my ability to express myself in words, written or spoken. But when my mother was dying and the pandemic kept me from her, I was constantly aware of just how much couldn't be expressed in words, especially once she had a harder time speaking or following the conversation.
我的整个成年生活都远离家人和许多我最亲近的人，所以我经常只能依靠书信、短信和电话来维持这些重要的联系，让我爱的人知道我的感受。长期以来，我一直对自己用书面或口头语言表达自己的能力很有信心。但当母亲病危，而新冠又让我无法与她沟通时，我才意识到有很多东西是无法用语言表达出来的，尤其当她很难说话或者跟上对话时。
Although I called nearly every day, it never seemed like enough; by the end, she was mostly listening while I told her that I loved her. How much more, I thought, would it mean to both of us if I could simply sit next to her and hold her hand in silence? How much more might she feel my love if she could feel my arms around her?
虽然我几乎每天都会打电话给她，但总觉得不够。最后，当我告诉她我爱她时，她大部分都听进去了。我想，如果我能坐在她身边，默默地握着她的手，这对我们俩来说会不会更有意义？如果她能感觉到我搂着她的手臂，那么她还能感受到多少我的爱？
After she died, I was incredibly fortunate in the support I had from loved ones near and far. Friends sent food and flowers, cards and video messages. Neighbors wearing masks waved at me through my kitchen window, left bouquets on the front step. But none of them could come into the house, sit beside me and listen to a story or give me a hug, and this felt like its own kind of loss.
她去世后，我非常幸运地得到了远近亲人的支持。朋友们送来食物、鲜花、卡片和视频信息。戴着口罩的邻居们通过我家厨房的窗户向我招手，在门前的台阶上留下花束。但他们谁也无法进到屋里来，坐在我身边听我讲故事或者给我一个拥抱，这感觉就像失去了什么。
Watching my mother's livestreamed funeral from across the country, I realized that even an on-site gathering could feel lonely absent the embraces and comforting touches we often look for and expect when we mourn. Very few people could attend because of COVID-19 restrictions, and no one hugged anyone else—they all stayed a responsible 6 ft. apart, masks on, their faces and emotions more than half-hidden from one another. Once or twice, I saw friends reaching out to one another from a distance, but they knew they couldn't come close enough for a real hug.
亲戚朋友都在全国各地观看母亲的葬礼直播，而我忽然意识到，即便是现场聚会也会感到孤独，因为没有了哀悼时经常期待的拥抱和安慰。由于新冠疫情的限制，参加葬礼的人很少，也没有彼此之间的相互拥抱，他们都保持着6英尺的距离，戴着口罩，他们的脸和情绪都半遮半掩。有一两次，我看到朋友们从远处向他人伸出手来，但他们知道自己无法靠近来一个真正的拥抱。
Lower infection rates and vaccinations came too late for my mom and me—and so many others—to have the last visits, the last hugs we wanted. Still, I'm grateful to be vaccinated now, to find myself looking forward to life in the hopefully not too distant future when my entire family is protected. Slowly, unbelievably, it's becoming more commonplace to socialize with people outside of our household, to meet a friend for dinner or drinks or have people over to our house. We invited some friends (and their dog!) to a cookout on Memorial Day, greeting them with unmasked grins and open arms, and when the following weekend brought not one but two small get togethers, one of my kids joked, "It's just like the old days!" Next month, I'll finally get to see my sister for the first time since Christmas 2019.
感染率的降低和疫苗接种的到来都太晚了，以至于母亲和我以及其他许多人都来不及去看望他们，来不及拥抱他们。尽管如此，我还是很感激现在接种了疫苗，我发现自己期待着在不太遥远的未来我的整个家庭都能受到保护。慢慢地，令人难以置信的是，与家庭之外的人交往，与朋友共进晚餐、共饮美酒，或者邀请朋友来家里做客，变得越来越普遍。在阵亡将士纪念日那天，我们邀请了一些朋友(还有他们的狗!)去野餐，并张开双臂，露齿而笑地向他们致意。接下来的周末，我们又举办了两场小型聚会，我的一个孩子开玩笑说，“就跟以前一样！”下个月，我终于可以在2019年圣诞节后第一次见到我的妹妹了。
It feels so good to share space with our loved ones, even though I'll never stop wishing that I could see and hug my mom again. And I know it will be some time before I'm able to travel to see all of my nearest and dearest, who are scattered throughout the country. When I do see them, though, they've been warned: I have a lot of hugging to make up for. I expect I'll never take it for granted again.
与爱的人分享空间的感觉真好，尽管我永远都希望能再次见到并拥抱我的母亲。我知道，我还需要一段时间才能去看望所有分散在全国各地的我最亲近的人。不过，在我见到他们之前我要警告他们一番：我有很多拥抱要弥补。我想我再也不会把拥抱视为理所当然了。
译文由可可原创，仅供学习交流使用，未经许可请勿转载。
