[Blog] - Loss in the time of COVID-19

I live in New York City, the verified epicenter of the COVID-19 pandemic in the US. In early March as things began unfolding quickly, there was still so much uncertainty about how this virus was going to affect everyday life. Some of my friends decided to leave the city and go home to their family or friends. The thought crossed my mind, but I thought I’d better not as my mother is at high risk due to age and asthma, and my grandfather as well due to age and high blood pressure. So I decided to stay in the city that I love, even as I was no longer able to go to work. Even as I was no longer able to see the people I love.

As the weeks have passed I’ve witnessed a lively, vibrant city become quiet and isolated. Any one who lives here grows accustomed to the sounds of sirens at any time of day. But now, the sirens seem to carry more weight, somehow more somber. Each time I hear them I wonder if there is someone inside who is struggling with COVID-19. I wonder if someone is struggling the way my grandfather struggled with complications from COVID-19 inside an ambulance before he passed.

My parents, my grandparents, and my older brother all reside outside Annapolis, MD, where I grew up. My grandmother passed away in late October after a long battle with ovarian cancer. And my grandfather, true to form as a marine, stood vigil all those years through chemotherapy treatments and sleepless nights and all the other horrors that accompany watching the one you love and have been married to for almost 65 years fight cancer. Needless to say, her passing shook my family. My grandparents had 6 children, who each married and had 3 children. I am one of 18 grandchildren, and 9 great grandchildren. There are great aunts and uncles, and second cousins, and the list goes on. We are a large family. My grandparents were the bedrock of this family. They were the best people I have ever known. And there was always love.

In March back at home in MD, my parents started taking all the necessary precautions as the COVID-19 pandemic spread. Masks, gloves, disinfectant wipes. And they brought these things over to my grandfather as well. My grandfather who was sitting through long days mostly alone, busying himself with books (“Five Indian Tribes of the Upper Missouri” had been the latest), painting, and facetiming family. My mother would drop by to bring groceries and supplies, and to keep him company from a distance.

Just before Easter he developed a cough and was short of breath. The doctor was called, but because he didn't have a fever they didn't want him brought into the hospital where he could be exposed. They continued checking in with the doctor, updating him on the severity of symptoms, but were never advised to leave the house. On Friday, April 17 my mother went over to check on him. He told her he was having a hard time breathing, so she called 911 and my father. The time they spent together before the EMT’s arrived must have felt like an eternity. As they were taking him out to the ambulance, my grandfather had a seizure and then a heart attack. So they began trying to resuscitate him. My mother was not allowed in the ambulance. She and my father followed along behind on the way to the hospital, where they also weren’t allowed to enter. They had to sit in the parking lot and wait for a phone call. They had to sit, and wait, not knowing what was happening, not able to see him. They had to sit, and wait, and when the phone call finally came the person on the other end of the line expressed their condolences. They had tried to resuscitate him for 40 minutes, but he had passed away.

Doctors and EMT’s said they believe it was completely related to COVID-19 as there are a good number of cases with blood clots causing heart attacks. But my grandfather was never tested. Because they are short on tests, they are reserving them for hospitalized patients and healthcare workers. They are not testing people who have died, but are assuming if they showed any symptoms that they would have tested positive. And so, my grandfather will not be counted as a COVID-19 fatality.

It happened just like that. I blinked. I took a breath. That's when it happened. And we weren’t ready. But I suppose you’re never ready. Losing my grandmother was hard. It is still hard. We are still mourning. She has only been gone a few months. And suddenly, my grandfather is gone as well. The entire bedrock. The foundation.

My grandparents were fond of the beach. They have a beach house in Lewes, DE, which has allowed our entire large family to gather together many times over the years. That was one of the things my grandmother loved most about the house. So it feels appropriate to say, in nautical terms, that I feel completely unmoored. I feel adrift, and uncertain of direction. In non-pandemic life, we would all gather to celebrate and mourn the incredible man who was my grandfather. There would be some amount of catharsis. It would signify that it’s time to take the next step. 

But this is pandemic life. And gatherings are not allowed. So we have to mourn and grieve on our own. Separate and apart. A challenge I am facing everyday. A challenge I know my mother and her siblings and my cousins must face everyday. Until the day we can be together again. And I know, deep down, I know that what will sustain us until then is love. The love my grandparents had for each other, which extends through my entire family. It exists in the texts I send my cousins to check in on them. It exists in the phone calls I have with my mother. It exists in all the things that periodically remind me of them or make me laugh. And what they don’t tell you, but you soon find out, is that love also exists in tears and in anger.

For a number of years my grandfather dubbed himself the “Though For The Day” man. He would send a mass email out to the entire family which included a quote. Some quotes pertained to holidays, or what was going on in politics that particular week. But some stood on their own. In August of 2016, he sent the following quote by Zelda Fitzgerald - “Nobody has ever measured how much the heart can hold.” I’ll never know what inspired him to send that quote, but something about it resonated with him. His heart held more love than I can imagine. I know that because it’s still here. I can feel it. And that will never go away.