Around four years ago, the world faced an unprecedented shutdown. The concept of 'normal' transformed into something perilous. Businesses closed, individuals retreated into isolation, and anxiety surged. Panic buying stripped store shelves bare. If someone were to create a time capsule representing the COVID era, it would undoubtedly include rubber gloves, sanitizers, face masks, and the highly sought-after toilet paper. As someone at high risk due to my history of heart issues and COPD, I made it a point to minimize exposure to others. When a friend kindly offered to pick up groceries for me, I jokingly asked for toilet paper, only to be surprised when he returned with a whole pack. I laughed, having never owned so many rolls at once.

Amid the chaos, unexpected joys emerged. Spontaneous concerts sprang up on sidewalks, patios, and virtually, filling communities with the healing essence of music. People rediscovered the beauty of simple pleasures like gardening, leisurely walks, and cycling on quieter streets. Zoom parties became a way to celebrate life's milestones together.

Just before the pandemic hit, my family welcomed a new member with the birth of my grandson, Dean. Living only half an hour away from my son and daughter-in-law allowed frequent visits—until we decided that for safety, my interactions should shift to Facetime. It broke my heart to miss out on cuddling him. To connect, I began recording daily videos of nursery rhymes and songs for them to share with Dean. After several weeks, they felt comfortable enough to allow me to visit while wearing a mask and using sanitizer, which brought me to tears. My daughter-in-law, a teacher, adapted to online teaching, while I transitioned to offering telehealth sessions. Initially, I feared the lack of intimacy in virtual meetings, but many clients preferred it, enjoying the convenience of not having to travel. It also provided glimpses into their lives, often featuring pets or, in the case of one child, a bearded dragon named Leo.

In 2021, I penned an article reflecting on the reluctance many felt about re-engaging socially after the isolation enforced by COVID. Would we be able to return to meaningful interactions and embrace one another again? Fully vaccinated, I now hug those who are comfortable with it, embracing the lessons learned during this period of introspection.

By early 2022, I reflected on my transformation into a social butterfly with clipped wings. The pandemic had reshaped my priorities and perspectives. I wrote about wanting to emerge softer and more deliberate in my interactions.

Now, more than two years into this global crisis, I remain grateful that my family had mostly avoided the virus—until it struck at an unfortunate time. In late April 2022, my son, daughter-in-law, and I contracted it just as my granddaughter Lucy was about to be born. Thankfully, my son was able to be present for her delivery, while the rest of us took turns watching Dean. After her birth, we masked up around Lucy for ten days—a small sacrifice to ensure her safety. Fortunately, she seemed to have inherited her mother's antibodies.

Despite experiencing mild symptoms, I recovered quickly, aided by a short course of medication. Fast forward to 2024, and COVID has shifted from a pandemic to a more manageable presence. Most people have returned to their routines, often without masks. I hope we can retain the lessons learned during this time, particularly the importance of community and mutual responsibility.

However, another insidious virus—hatred—remains prevalent. Unlike COVID, there is no vaccine for this. Some argue that discussing it creates division, but shining a light on racism, sexism, and other forms of discrimination is crucial for eradication. I may be idealistic in believing in our potential for harmony, but I urge those who can speak out to do so. We must protect the vulnerable, just as we did during the pandemic, recognizing that none of us is immune from suffering.

Instead of succumbing to hatred, let us treat each other as irreplaceable, understanding that every individual is cherished by someone.

This article was originally published on The Good Men Project.