I’m 5 days from my due date and yesterday I learned my father died from Covid-19. I wasn’t even aware he was ill or in a hospital near me. He was an inmate at a prison. I knew things were bad there, as it’s been all over the news. He had been in the hospital since April 3 and died on April 9. I was told on April 10.

I lived my life like nothing was wrong while my father died. I couldn’t have known. I didn’t do anything wrong. But every happy moment seems so sinister to me now.

I was supposed to be told he was critical. Somewhere protocol was broken. Someone was supposed to contact me.

I know it wouldn’t have changed the outcome, and I couldn’t have seen him. But I could have passed him a message. I could have kept vigil at home. I could have asked people to help with prayer or thoughts.

We have already had moments of joy stolen from us. Baby showers, photo shoots, a birth surrounded by family. Y’all really hold on tight to the joys that we have left, ok? Keep your families healthy.

I’m not in danger, I wasn’t exposed. I last visited him on Super Bowl Sunday. I last spoke to him on March 28. He said he felt fine but I wonder if that was true.