“I should have called”: Grieving during COVID-19

I had my first experience of grief during COVID today when I found out an American relative that had always inspired me had died. Grief’s long shadow cast across my morning. My son hummed happily as he got ready for the walk to school. Tears slid down my cheeks. I felt hollow with feelings of sadness and guilt and the sense of missed opportunity. My son had never met her and I did not expect him to understand. I wiped my tears and stared at the window as the morning sun fell neatly through the curtains but it did not elicit any joy, just a noticing. I could have called. I could have emailed. I could have just reminded her that she was an inspiration to me before she left. My frustration underpinned each thought and threatened me with self-recrimination.

So many of us have experienced grief during the pandemic across the past year. My heart goes out to anyone that is struggling with grief. Whilst all grief is equal, I do appreciate that the pain of losing a parent, a child, a sibling or a partner can eclipse everything else and I have not had that particular experience during the pandemic. I offer my experience and I appreciate that for some going through grief, no one can feel how painful it is to lose someone that you love and is part of your everyday life.

My relative knew death was coming, and was awaiting transfer to a hospice. My dad spoke to her a week ago on the phone and told me about it, he told me she was dying because the brain tumour had returned. They had talked for hours and she asked about my brothers and I and wanted to know all the details, what were we working on, how was life. She was catching up before leaving us. As my dad spoke, I felt the weight of his sadness. Can you feel empathetic grief? My sadness felt lighter than his but I could feel them both. Was I grieving more due to my dad’s grief? I couldn’t tell. I felt pangs of regret again. I wish I could have said goodbye.

After struggling with some deaths in my life in my 20s, for the last few deaths in my life (pre-pandemic) I have made an effort to visit people that I care about before they die, my close childhood friend’s father, a close friend of my mother that took care of me when I was a small child. Without question, I got in the car and drove to see them before they died. My visits were driven out of both kindness and a selfishness in equal measure. I wanted to be there for them and let them know I cared; I also wanted a chance to spend time with them one last time, tell one more story and laugh at something we had laughed at many times before. Sometimes this wasn’t possible, as they were beyond the point of telling stories. Sometimes it was. These people meant a lot to me, my experience of childhood and growing up, I wanted them to know that I cared.

With my relative, I’m sad that I didn’t do that. She lived in New York and it was not possible beyond email and phone. It’s hard to reach out with someone that you haven’t seen in a long time is dying. I feared that I might be interrupting or intruding on her life and her illness. Especially during the pandemic. It feels to me like during the pandemic, we have made these little circles of survival of friends and family. Breaking out of the circle and talking to others in their own circles can feel hard and strained sometimes. There is the concern that calling out of the blue whilst someone is dying may lead to one appearing crass and blundering without understanding their context and their struggle.

But if I have one regret it’s that I didn’t call. That I didn’t break through the shyness and fear of being an imposition. I should have. It’s better to face the prospect of being awkward than missing out. Once a life is gone, they are gone. Now there is a new phase of honouring. I’m not sure I’m there yet. But her life was an accomplished and impressive life, someone who retrained as a psychiatrist in her later years and set up her own practice in New York. Someone who found love late in life and lived her later years to full. Perhaps you could say she was a late bloomer, but in that she bloomed in each of the phases of her life. I offer her my thoughts and prayers and thank her for every touch point with her being positive and warm. Every memory that I possess with her, involves her being kind, calm and generous, smart and present. Her presence was reassuring and authoritative, yet humble and quiet. I really hope that I can be more like her and bring forth her memory that way.