This is something I try to reckon with, find peace with, not get emotional about, but, y'all? It's hard. It's real hard. And some of what I'm going to share is ugly. My preference is to stay light hearted when possible, but these thoughts have been weighing heavy on me. Real heavy.
Examples:
Certain Facebook "Friends"
I have Covid deniers in my "friend" group on Facebook. I'm going to classify a Covid denier as one who posts mocking memes about efforts to promote social distancing and mask wearing, those who rant and rave about anything resembling a slight on their freedom to spread disease by commenting on public sites "But Covid has a 98% survival rate...it's just like the flu" and certainly anybody who thinks this virus was a worldwide conspiracy to influence the US presidential elections. I could go on, but you get the general gist.
It's a daily challenge to see this type of nonsense and know that Dad died because of Covid. Worse, knowing how transparent I was with our family's Covid journey and to continue to see this type of rhetoric just feels like a slap in the face to Dad and all Covid victims, including multitudes of "survivors" that struggle with now lifelong, debilitating conditions. That there are people out there, feigning "friendship" and would also effectively deny Dad's death because they deny the disease that killed him, well, that's just a level of calculus I don't know how to compute...I just know that it leaves me feeling confused, angry and hurt. Should it? Should I allow these people's beliefs and words to influence my grief? Of course not. But I do.
Maskholes*
There are those whose personal freedoms are much more important than the rest of ours. Did you know that? They are the ones that feel they are not scared of this virus (read: "98% survival rate), and don't care they may be passing along Covid to others who are cautious or, worse, at high risk.
I really just don't understand that person. I don't understand not caring for my fellow community members to the point that I would knowingly and willingly deny scientific evidence and choose to put others at risk, but there are legions of people out there that just don't wear their masks. I see you. I see you walking into the stores, pumping your gas, running errands, hassling hourly workers that implore you to comply with mask guidance and I wonder: "Which one of "you" maskless wonders breathed near my Dad?"
"You" is in quotes not because anybody in my community infected my father, but I'm lumping all maskholes together as a united group. To me? They are domestic terrorists. And now, more than ever, when I see them, I well with anger and mounting frustration at all the unnecessary loss of life this past year and for the lives we've yet to lose. I am angered by how cavalier, callous and uncaring they are to continue to wander around, without a mask and putting fellow citizens at risk.
People Looking for Fine Print
Almost 100% of my conversations about Dad's death start like this:
Me: "I just lost my Dad to Covid last month."
Other Person: "Oh wow. I'm so sorry to hear that. Did he have an underlying condition?"
Well, the answer is, NO. Dad was healthy! Very few people would have guessed he was 79, he certainly didn't act his age. He was extraordinarily active, physically in the yard/garage and with innumerable house projects and was always on the go with church and other community volunteering. Dad had many more years to not just live, but to enjoy life to its fullest. There were Graduations, Confirmations, Weddings, Anniversaries and Birthdays in his future.
Covid came and hit my healthy father and knocked him over, period. It's a vicious, unrelenting disease and I shouldn't have to qualify his death time and time again and yet that is what I'm asked to do with almost every conversation I have.
Why is that? Why do we make a griever further qualify cause of death? Are you scared about your own well being? Disbelieving in Covid? Just quoting something the news usually spouts?
Anyway, what I want to say scream when I answer is: NO! He had absolutely no underlying conditions and if you don't mask up, stop socializing unnecessarily and taking other risks, this could be your story. In my version, it involves a mildly hysterical raised voice and a pounding of a table. My neck is probably red and temples are pulsing.
The good news is, I have the wherewithal to not have such an outburst every time I'm asked and, instead, very evenly share a nice little anecdote about how vibrant and healthy Dad lived his life.
Non Stop Vaccine Coverage
I cannot fully express my joy at seeing friends and members of my community get their vaccines as they become eligible. And the news coverage of more and more vaccines getting pushed out into the community and advancements with additional vaccines on the horizon, testing in progress for kids 12-16, etc. All this is so positive! And so close. Dad. Was. So. Close. Just a couple more months and he could have been vaccinated. So, with every story and every post relating to vaccines, my emotions are tugged in multiple directions. Joy and grief. Joy and Grief. Joy and Grief. Needless to say, it's a complicated topic for me to reflect on with every announcement I read/hear.
Rant(s) done
So, in these ways, I find grieving Dad's death from Covid especially challenging for my psyche. They may not make sense to some or seem childish and off putting to some, but these are real and frequent triggers that seem to make an already unbearable loss just that much more challenging for me to navigate right now.
It's hard to move forward** with life and have this thing, this Covid thing, that dominates social media, news media and our day to day lives as a constant reminder of our loss.
*Maskholes -
1) Sorry, Mom. I know you're probably not wild about this language 👀.
2) I was thinking about it though and imagining a world in which a few of us are sitting around, maybe on the patio in Florida, long past dinner and talking about nonsense. The topic of mask wearing might come up and if I am in the room, Maskholes will for sure be a natural transition to our conversation. Dad tilts his head, indicating the need for clarification, so I explain. A brief moment of silence ensues. Then: belly laugh. This makes me happy.
**"move forward" -
At a little over a month post funeral, the concept of moving forward, is very broad reaching, but work with me. I'm trying.
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