A Mourning in Covid
My Grandfather’s passing is not the first death I’ve experienced. In addition to friends and other family members, both of my grandmothers had passed away years prior. Both of them had cancer. For as much as I felt their cancer took from me, I had always been so grateful for the time it had granted me. It was like a selfish “heads up” that the end was near and it was time to say our goodbyes. With both of my Grandmothers, I spent days and hours calling them. I booked last minute trips to be by their bedside. I sat with them. I held their hands. I told them I loved them. Both experiences had been severely painful, yet the thing that brought me the most peace, were those final moments. I can remember how they smelled, what they said, and how soft their hands were. It was like capturing one final memory, and saving it forever. Both of those goodbyes meant the world to me. Those moments were mine and those memories my inheritance.
After my Grandmothers passed away, there was the preparation time for their funerals. I know people usually describe this period of mourning with dread, but there is something therapeutic about planning a loved one’s final celebration. Yes, it’s true. The time you spend with your family can be daunting, but also it manages to somehow be soothing. In a way, you can feel the energy of your loved one through the people around you. You spend time collecting photographs and exchanging stories and when you least expect it, you’re able to crack a smile or indulge in a laugh. Then there is the funeral. It’s heavy with grief, yet comforting, because you get to see that even though one person will no longer physically in your life, you are reminded of the dozens of others who will stay with you a little longer. You’re reminded you’re not alone.
In the case of my Grandfather, and as I imagine for other families experiencing loss to this virus, this experience has been the complete opposite. He died alone and we mourn alone. What makes his passing so heartbreaking is the fact that there is no one to blame, and there was nothing any of us can do. I hate the phrase “it is what it is”, because it feels so passive and so final. And yet in order to digest the realities of COVID-19 in 2020 and his departure from this existence, I’m left with it as my explanation. the concept of “Fairness” is completely out the window. Because while I see reports of people who acquire the virus and have no symptoms, and people who acquire the virus experience symptoms and recover, he was one of the 231,000+ others who could not survive.
Due to the sensitive nature of this disease, and aggressiveness of its contagion, my family could not ride with him in the ambulance to the hospital. We could not travel the 15 minutes drive to his hospital bed to say our goodbyes. We could not gather to comfort each other upon hearing the news, and many of us will not be able to attend his funeral due to space and safety. Everything feels out of our control and nothing feels within our favor.
I appreciate the showering of virtual and digital love that has been shared from friends and extended family alike. Their messages are all correct. He will be with us forever. His memory is a blessing. He did love us. He is watching over us. We will be alright. But while I continue to practice social distancing, and I mourn this loss, my heart continues to break for not being able to say goodbye. Not to him while in the hospital, neither to him as he is laid to rest.
Until now, I thought I knew what it was like to have my heart broken. As I had experienced it in the past, this heartbreak had all of the ingredients. It was comprised of love, loss, a man and an end of our time together. And for obvious reasons this one hurts the most…