Earlier this week I got my first COVID shot at Phoenix Municipal Stadium. The process itself was painless and efficient.
But as I made my way through the maze waiting to get jabbed in the arm, I looked around at all of the other people waiting.
Some looked older and others maybe a little younger, but collectively, everyone, as far as I could tell, seemed happy.
The 60 to 70 volunteers, happy.
The nurse who gave me my shot, happy.
So why was I feeling, well, a little guilty?
It’s because while I was getting mine, so many others, weren’t as lucky.
In Arizona alone we’ve lost close to 17,000 people to COVID.
That’s 17,000 funerals. 17,000 Zoom calls to watch a loved one pass.
It’s what happened with my Dad on Jan. 1.
This terrible virus has ravaged so many families. And now as we climb out of this rabbit hole we all fell into, while we can all celebrate the tremendous accomplishments of our researchers, doctors and front line workers, I grieve for all of those who were struck down before the vaccine was developed.
May they never be forgotten.