The pandemic has turned the lives of so many people upside down. Businesses are closing and people are struggling to feed their families.

My heart goes out to the families that have lost loved ones. It is such a lonely way to die. It is unfair that people have been living such wonderful lives, and then a sneeze or cough from someone can start the path to their death. The least we can do for each other is wear masks.

Remember a few months ago when we had approximately 20 active cases in the province? Now, we are closing in on 3,000. This is scary stuff.

Eight months ago, I wondered if having field hospitals in Saskatoon and Regina were overreactions. Back in the infancy of the pandemic, the Saskatchewan Health Authority had plans in place to treat people in a dire situation where more than 3,000 would die. There was talk of 8,000 deaths. I admit to rolling my eyes. My eyes are locked into place now.

While there is apprehension and some downright fear, Sandy and I have been blessed this year with the births of two more grandchildren. Brooks was born on Jan. 10 and Zoey on Aug. 22. Our other grandchild, Parker, turned two in November. We couldn’t have a birthday party for her with a wave of COVID hitting the province hard.

One of the best moments of my year was when I coloured with Parker. She knew the colours and would pick them out of the group.

Some of her art is now hanging in our house. The thing with kids is it doesn’t take long to scribble out a painting. We might soon have more paintings than the Remai gallery. Maybe that is a poor example.

I recall writing a column two years ago about the empty walls at the gallery. I had more emails of support than from those challenging my position. I will have those detractors know that when I was in Grade 3, a piece of my scribbling was on display at the Exhibition. So, I know a bit about art.

Parker and I also went back and forth a few times to look at the fish in the aquarium in my home. I can’t wait to teach her how to clean the tank.

One of those cherishable moments was when she was standing at the top of the stairs, wanting to go downstairs to see the fish again. She stretched out her arm and said, “Hand.” One word meant so much.

We scaled down Thanksgiving Dinner this year. It was the third without my father at the dinner table. I look at a photo of him every day. Over the years, I seemed to forget all the good things he did for me, and the lessons I learned from him.

Tell those people in your life you love them. I didn’t do that. It’s three words — I love you.

Sandy and I miss visiting her parents and my mom. Whenever one of Sandy or I aren’t feeling well, or we are in contact with someone on the periphery of our bubble, we go back to self-monitoring. When parents are 86 and older, time spent together is even more precious.

I went one stretch of three weeks from being in the same house as my mom. It’s been the same for Sandy and her parents. As some readers will recall, Mom and I have been having grilled cheese sandwiches together every Sunday. They have become far too infrequent.

My friend Ken Noskye was telling me last week that he hasn’t been able to see his father face-to-face in quite some time. Ken’s father is in a longterm care home. Ken recently went to the care home and peered in his father’s window. His father’s face lit up and he pressed his thumb against the glass. Ken said when their thumbs were touched, there was a surge of energy in his body.

It is now looking like there will be no Christmas Dinner for many families. Sandy and I wish bubbles could be expanded to get families together during the festive season, but we understand that sacrifices by each and every one of us now will lead to a brighter, safer future for all of us.

At this time, we have to take care of each other.

One for all and all for one.

And remember to say three magical words. “I love you.” You will never regret it.

-Cam Hutchinson