Yeah, mhm. Each day I receive a small card in my pocket. I carry with me my schedule. It shows the number of Americans have been affected by or died from Cove in 19. Today we mark a truly grim, heartbreaking milestone. 500,071 dead. That's more Americans who have died in one year in this pandemic than a World War one, World War Two in the Vietnam War combined. That's more lives lost to this virus in any other nation on Earth. But as we acknowledge the scale of this mass death in America remember each person the life they lived, they're people we knew. They're people we feel like we knew, read the obituaries and remembrances. The son who called his mom every night just to check in the fathers daughter who lit up his world. The best friend who was always there. The nurse, the nurse and nurses. But the nurse a major patients want to live. I was in just in Kalamazoo, Michigan, at the Pfizer Vaccine manufacturing facility. There. I met a man when I walked in, whose father in law was dying of the virus. He was sad. I asked if I could call his father in law. He said his father in law was too sick to speak, But then he said. But could I pray for him? Could I pray for him? We all know someone fellow Americans who live lives of struggle, purpose and of hope, who talked late into the night about their dreams, who wore the uniforms born to serve, who loved, played and always offered a hand. We often hear people described as ordinary Americans. There's no such thing. There's nothing ordinary about them. The people we lost were extraordinary. They spanned generations born in America, immigrated to America. But just like that, so many of them took their final breath alone in America. As a nation, we can't accept such a cruel fate. While we're fighting this pandemic for so long, we have to resist becoming numb to the sorrow. We have to resist viewing each life as a statistic or a blur or on the news. We must do Soto honor the dead, but equally important care for the living. Those who left behind for the loved ones left behind. I know all too well I know what it's like to not be there when it happens. I know what it's like when you are there. Holding their hands is look in your eye and they slip away that black hole in your chest. You feel like you're being sucked into it. The survivor's remorse, the anger, the questions of faith in your soul. For some of you, it's been a year, a month, a week, a day, even an hour. And I know that when you stared at empty chair around the kitchen table, it brings it all back, no matter how long it would happened, as if it just happened that moment. You look at the empty chair, the birthdays, the anniversary of the holidays without them and the everyday things, the small things that tiny things that you miss the most that sent when you open the closet, that park you go by the use of strolling a movie theater where you met. Uh huh, Good morning coffee you shared together the bending, his smile, a perfect pitch to her laugh. I received a letter from a daughter whose father died of Covert 19 on Easter Sunday last year. She and her Children, his grandchildren and are lent this season season of reflection renewal, with heavy hearts unable to properly more. And she asked me in the letter, What was our loss among so many others? Well, that's what has been so cruel. So many of the rituals that help us cope that help us honor those we loved haven't been available to us. The final rites with family gathered around the proper homegoing, showered with stories and love tribal leaders passing out the final traditions of sacred cultures on sacred lands. As a nation, we cannot, and we must not let this go on. That's why the day before my inauguration at the Cova 19 Memorial at the Reflecting Pool on the National Mall, I said to hell, Thio, heal. We must remember. I know it's hard, I promise you. I know it's hard, I remember. But that's how you heal. You have to remember, and it's also it's important to do that as a nation, those who have lost loved ones, this is what I know they're never truly gone will always be part of your heart. I know this is well and it seems unbelievable, but I promise you the day will come in the memory of the loved one you lost will bring a smile to your lips before a tear to your eye It will come, I promise you My prayer for you is that they will come sooner rather than later. And that's when you know you're gonna be OK. You're gonna be OK. And for me, the way through sorrow and grief is the fine purpose. I don't know how many you've lost someone a while ago wondering is he or she proud of me now is that they want me to do I know it's how I feel we confined purpose, purpose worthy of the lives they lived were the the country we love So today I ask all Americans to remember Remember those we lost those who left behind But as remember as we all remember, I also asked us toe Act to remain vigilant to say stay socially. Distance to mask up, Get vaccinated. When it's your turn, we must end. The politics of misinformation is divided families. Communities in the country has cost too many lives already. It's not Democrats. Republicans were dying from the virus. It's our fellow Americans. It's our neighbors, our friends, our mothers, our fathers our sons, our daughters, husbands, wives. We have to fight this together as one people as the United States, America. That's the only we're gonna beat this virus. I promise you the only way to spare more pain and more lost the only way thes millstones no longer mark our national mourning. These milestones, I should say no, no longer Mo Mark our national mourning. Let's just not be a story of how far we fell. But how far we climb back up. We could do this for this year. Profound loss. We've seen profound courage from all of you on the front lines. I know the stress, the trauma, the grief you carry. But you give us hope. You keep us going. You remind us that we do take care of our own. They will leave nobody behind. On the while, we've been humbled. We have never given up. We are America. We can and we'll do this just a few minutes. Jill and I common Doug, hold a moment of silence here in the White House, the people's house, your house. We ask you to join us to remember so we could heal to find purpose and the work ahead to show that there is light in the darkness this nation will smile again. This nation will know sunny days again. This nation will no joy again. And as we do well, remember each person we've lost the lives they lived, the loved ones they left behind. We will get through this, I promise you. But my heart aches for those of you who are going through it right now, May God bless you all. Particularly those who've lost someone. God bless you. Ah, yeah, yeah, The room. Right here. Thank you. Thank you. So Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Bye. We met through. Thank you. Yeah. You know what's going on? Yeah. Yes, I've been What? Socialist? Take the place. Yeah. You better get used to. Yeah, yeah.