What being from my dad on his 77th birthday taught me about dealing with the pandemic

It had been my dad’s 77th birthday on Wednesday. When I called him, he was as chipper as ever. He and my mum had enjoyed a good lunch in the home, with a cake, and had been visited by a neighbour, who, I was assured, maintained a good distance always.

It had been a detour from the most common boisterous gatherings my perennially sociable parents throw to celebrate their birthdays, but both seemed happy enough.

I’ll have an unbidden flash of panic if my mum calls at an unusual time of day

I like to feel that I am faring pretty well through the ups and downs of the existing pandemic. I am very aware of how lucky I am, in comparison to countless other people all over the world. But every now and again, like on your own dad’s 77th birthday, you are reminded of how surreal and unsettling this whole situation is.

For many of us, concern about our loved ones in countries a long way away is the undercurrent of the whole crisis. For all those folks who live apart from our families, without prospect of seeing them or being able to care for them if the worst does happen, you will find a frequent sense of unease.

When airports and borders started shutting down, we were all confronted with the same terrifying reality: if something happens, there’s nothing at all I can do.

I’ll have an unbidden flash of panic if my mum calls at a unique period - quickly allayed when it transpires that she is calling to tell me about her last visit to the supermarket (in comprehensive detail).

There were full-blown rows as I make an effort to outline the merits of wearing a face mask in public areas (not yet common practice in Cyprus, their current address), and they brush off my concerns.

Luckily, they are in a remote spot in the countryside, plus my mum’s propensity to hoard means they have sufficient food to survive a nuclear fallout, that is a source of some solace.

One of the most heartbreaking elements of this whole situation is the fact that persons are forced to fight - and sometimes succumb - to the disease without the support of these they love.

It is one of the great ironies that, as we collectively struggle through the consequences of the pandemic, we should do it separately, definately not the people we so desperately want to protect. At the same time when human comfort and intimacy are needed as part of your, we must keep our distance.

That is exacerbated by the actual fact that there is absolutely no end in sight. While airlines are gradually beginning to remove restrictions and try the skies again, many countries are retaining strict controls over their borders.

We should override all our instincts to dash back again to those we skip the most

And even if I could get on a plane to Larnaca International Airport tomorrow, would I? The temptation to be with this loved kinds is overwhelming. But the risks remain so high. Do we actually want to be getting on planes and in taxis and potentially exposing ourselves to the virus, and then arrive at our elderly parents' doorsteps and present them a hug?

And so we should wait, patiently. We should override all our instincts to dash back again to those we miss the most. And hope that things can look very different by the time my dad turns 78.