I know he's dead, but he's still a monster, who made my entire province afraid. I am up every night till dawn, because I'm ridiculously afraid, when dawn comes I go to bed. (Old night shift nurses are forever messed up) I have a single shot 22, and it being loaded, and me being my father's daughter (a really good shot) makes me a bit less afraid.
I stop and LOOK at the RCMP officers and their detachment in my little town outside of Truro. That's what grinds me, the fact that these poor officers now have me afraid of them. (I guess I now understand a bit how POC feel?) Our collective innocence is lost.
This affects me because it's my home-- Shubie (Shubenacadie) my hometown, Debert my once work, the VON my old employer, Onslow, Belmont, Glenholme all places I once lived. Hidden Hilltop Campground, my ex'es family owned, my best friend's husband and family all from Portapique. There's no 6 degrees of separation for me. This is SO personal.
I couldn't go to visit the memorials this last weekend, because my husband was with me, and this is private grief. I have to go it alone, and deal with it alone.
Most of us in Nova Scotia are taking this pandemic seriously, which means no visiting, no coming together in grief or remembrance, and while the online vigil was lovely, it's not the same as being with actual live people. The families of the victims must feel so alone.