January 6 is a very bad day for me, but for two reasons, not one.
The first reason is that I was notified that morning in 2021 that both of my parents had died. They were both 96 years old. My father died of COVID-19, and my mother died from "complications of Alzheimers." I'm pretty sure she had COVID-19 as well, since the live-in caregiver they had also had COVID-19.
Then, while I was on the phone to a funeral home where they live, arranging to have them picked up and buried, I saw, unfolding on the TV, the heinous attack on the Capitol Building.
I spent the rest of the day dealing with stuff having to do with the death of my parents, while watching that insurrection happen. I wasn't going to be able to travel to California to deal with anything, so the next four months were spent on the phone and online with an attorney and others to administer their estate. At the same time, I was dealing with my disgust with the man who will now move into the White House for the second time.
Yes, January 6 is a date that will always signify heartbreak and anger for me. I'm feeling those two things all over again today. All I can do is keep busy and try to let the day pass.
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