Tangible, Concrete Covid Reactions

This week one of my very best friends, R, is burying her father. R's dad died on Sunday due to complications from Covid. The illness was swift. He caught Covid, was hospitalized, and died within roughly two or three weeks. My poor friend has been in shock, especially since she believed that "statistically" he would be able to rally and survive. I admire how she is keeping her eye on positivity, and looking for strength in the love she feels within her family, including her love for her dad. She is a much better person than me and I hope her grieving process is not as complicated as mine was with my mom's passing.

R's dad was just a few months older than my father-in-law. R's dad did have some health concerns, although he was well enough to go golfing on a regular basis and was preparing to go on a fishing trip. His death has made me think more about my own family members, and I'm grateful for the precautions that we have been taking this year to make sure my in-laws are safe.

Although I never knew R's dad, I am grieving to see my dear friend grieving. And this death has made me reflect more on Covid, but in a personal way that is less abstract. Although we have dutifully stayed home for the past nine (almost ten) months, and that confinement has felt very real, the actions that we have done have also seemed difficult to pinpoint as productive, since we haven't had people in our local circle catch Covid, let alone die. But maybe that's the point: perhaps people have been healthy because we have kept our distance. My disciplined approach to staying at home has been for this very reason: to protect the vulnerable, including my in-laws.

However, this death has hit home in a new way because it is concrete. It is something that will forever impact the life of my friend, her family, and her children. My mind is still wrapping around thinking about Covid in this tangible way that connects to someone I know and love. Just last night, I mindlessly made a passing comment to R and C about the virus in a trivial tone, which I immediately regretted. I apologized for being so thoughtless given the context of what R is experiencing, and I've been thinking about that incident since it happened. There really is nothing to joke about with this virus, beyond perhaps the day-to-day absurdities that result from spending so much time at home. This virus not only is a physical threat, but it threatens our emotions, our economies, our livelihoods, and our relationships with others.

And, given this new personal perspective on the virus, I hope to continue to think about this pandemic in an even more purposeful and conscientious way. I haven't been dismissive of the pandemic in my actions and, for the most part, not in my words. But I can see first-hand how comments that downplay the severity of the virus (along the lines of "I'll take my chances" or "it's not that bad") dismiss the experience of others who are suffering or grieving a loved one. And I think it's important to be especially careful in what we say and express, because with the rising death toll, there is a chance that you are addressing someone who is grieving or suffering in some way.