Grief has taught me to find the gifts amid the loss. I am not saying that it’s always (or ever) a fair trade, but loss does not leave a pure void. Things do grow in a desert. What grief gives takes time to appreciate, but the gifts are there. I learned this with each loved one I buried—my mother, both grandmothers, a grandfather, and an uncle. And it didn’t matter if the loss was expected or attacked without warning. After a time, perhaps a great deal of time, I was able to find joy again and see that there were things I’d gained through my season of mourning that may not have come any other way.
Losing my mother—unexpectedly, and from too far away to get to the hospital before she was declared dead—gave me more compassion. I don’t have to imagine the depth of despair experienced by friends living in the wake of the death of a loved one—I’ve been there. Losing my mother also forced me to mine my own heart and mind and test the resilience of my faith. I couldn’t live in the great overflow of hers anymore. I had to solidify my own.
Now, with all that is sad and frightening—with the worldwide death toll rising like a reverse avalanche and the worry that someone near and dear to me might get caught up in it, this isn’t the first difficult season of my life. I have already survived a storm. The ground beneath my feet has already fallen away, but I stood—sometimes crawled—forward. Foundations I depended on for love, guidance, and support have already been shattered. And while I’ve been broken by loss, I can also draw some strength from my scars.
All the grief I’ve endured in the past has helped me to see this current state of affairs with different eyes—given me a specific perspective on this pandemic. Covid-19 is not my first earthquake event. Trauma can break us down, but it can also leave us stronger or wise for life’s next obstacle.
Last week I had two of the “Top 10 Worst Days” of my life. And while my stomach and sleep still haven’t completely settled from the shock and terror and sadness of it all, I’ve already learned how to navigate horrible things happening. I was caught off guard, but not emotionally unprepared. It doesn’t hurt any less and it is no less frightening, but I’ve gained enough perspective to recognize that this too, though terrible, is also temporary—even if it’s long lasting.
Covid-19 has taken a lot away. It has taken physical expressions of affection. It has taken social gatherings. It has taken risk-free roaming. It has taken stress-free trips to the grocery store, doctor’s office, and for miscellaneous errands. It has taken necessities like salaries and luxuries like manicures, massages, and hair coloring. It has taken lives. Some can’t leave their homes or cross state lines. Others can’t get out of bed, breathe unassisted, or open their eyes.
Covid-19 has also given us things we do not want. It has given us a clearer view of the racism still harbored by so many hearts. It has given danger and distress to those who might be harassed or hurt because of the color of their skin or where a stranger thinks they’re from. It has given more space for personal, institutional, and instinctive racism to roam. It has given doctors, nurses, and support staff working hours and working conditions that are dangerous and overwhelming. It has given many an unbearable burden—a trial on top of the hard life they were already living. And it has given fear—fear of having no control over something the naked eye cannot see, fear of what we will never have again, fear of how things will change (and fear of how they won’t), fear on behalf of our own or a loved one’s health, fear of death, fear of all that is unknown.
But there have been gifts gained from Covid-19 too. It is definitely not a fair trade, but there are good things nonetheless—bright lights to focus our sights on in these dark times. We are separated, yet we are coming together. Technology means that many of us are all essentially the same distance away—an email, a text, a video call, a phone call, or (gasp!) a handwritten letter.
There is now no difference between the distance that separates me from my family in other boroughs, states, or countries. I must connect and communicate the same way with my friends in California, Colorado, France, Germany, and the United Arab Emirates. My workouts and dance classes are international. My game nights are bicoastal. Just this past weekend, I enjoyed a reunion with friends from three different time zones. My writers’ group is now able to accommodate those who used to live here or near and moved away. Meeting at nine in the morning on a Sunday before church is less of a burden when your commute is just sitting in front of your laptop and clicking on a link. Because we must all stay home, we are all effectively equidistant—apart physically, but also forming and reforming connections via technology.
Covid-19 has given us an awareness that there’s an underlying problem and is forcing us to ask questions, find solutions, and take actions that will hopefully make us better as a society. Our country has a lot of preexisting conditions—racism, classism, poverty—inequalities in education, justice, and opportunity.
Covid-19 has taken a lot from many and too much from some. But most of us still have things to be grateful for. Take a deep breath. There are those who cannot take breathing for granted—each inhale and exhale is a struggle or requires a machine. Are your eyes dry? Many are weeping. They have had to bury loved ones, and they have had to do it under extreme emotional pressure. They will not have the comfort of being surrounded by loved ones at the funeral—the empathetic eyes or supportive hugs of family and friends.
Imagine that—looking upon a funeral filled with mourners as a blessing. I now see every wake I’ve attended differently. I am grateful that every time I buried a loved one, more loved ones were around me. Each family funeral, albeit sad, was also a coming together—a reunion. It is a benefit those burying loved ones now don’t have.
Is work stressing you out? A number of us still have jobs and can do them without putting ourselves at risk. Our work hours may be more taxing, but they still have limits. Some are working tirelessly and apart from their families. Others aren’t working at all and are watching their bank accounts atrophy.
What death, sickness, and loss take away and what grief gives in return do not balance, but it is important to recognize both sides. We have lost security and surety, but we have gained a greater appreciation for the simpler things—a hug, a smile, a meal we made ourselves. We are limited physically, and so we have had to depend even more on our imaginations. We have entered other worlds through screens and pages and songs. Imagine the joy we’ll feel when we’re free to travel again—whether it’s just down the block, to the park, crossing the county, or across an ocean.
We have seen that while we are all in this together, not everyone wants to pitch in or sees his or her neighbor as equal. But we have also come to recognize who the real heroes are, the selfless, the brave, the above and beyond givers, the voices that won’t stay silent about injuries and injustices.
There are those who so take their freedom for granted, they are not willing to lay it down momentarily on behalf of those whose lives their actions affect—refusing to endure a hardship they can survive on behalf of those who could die. They are so shortsighted, misguided, and entitled, that they are conflating sacrifice with oppression and enemies with victims. But there are also many bent over sewing machines, paying for strangers’ groceries, donating blood, and staying away from their own families to help, heal, serve, and be a companion to those in sickness and in need.
This pandemic has taken much (too much) from the world, but it has also given new outlets for compassion, consideration, and creativity.
There is no fair trade for the lives this disease has ended, upended, or disproportionately overwhelmed. No check can stimulate joy. And grief cannot be bribed. Inequality is woven into the fabric of this country, so any crisis will press upon some much more acutely. The flag will not fray evenly.
And so, while Covid-19 takes, it is we who must give. There is a debt we owe to all those who have paid or will pay the ultimate price. Let us not allow our politics, greed, ignorance, or prejudice to jeopardize another life.
Photo by Lina Trochez on Unsplash
Write Away 