Dealing with Loss During the Coronavirus Pandemic

Losing my father-in-law during quarantine life

I hate the coronavirus.

This invisible enemy stole precious time that we could have spent with my 82-year-old father-in-law — had his rehab center and then ICU unit not been on lockdown due to COVID-19.

Pop passed away on Tuesday, April 21st. We got the call at 10 am. We knew it was coming for a while now, but that still does nothing to soften the blow. He’s gone. I still had so much left to say.

He had health issues for the last few years. This most recent health issue was a urinary tract infection. Pop was taken to the hospital in early March and his health seemed to improve enough for him to be moved to a local rehab center.

That was before our governor issued a stay-at-home directive due to COVID-19.

Quarantine life and lockdown

Then it happened. The directive was issued.

That meant none of my husband’s big Italian family could visit Pop while he convalesced in rehab. It was difficult for all of us — but especially for my mother-in-law.

She couldn’t see Pop during the 30-day lockdown in the rehab. They had been married for 55 years. With Pop’s health issues in the last few years, mom has always been there for him. She stayed by his side with each hospital and rehab stay.

Now, Pop was alone.

Sure, he had the rehab medical staff.

However, he didn’t have mom for any of his stay during quarantine life (for mom) and lockdown in the rehab (for him). Thankfully, the nurses started helping him speak with mom through FaceTime several times.

But that still wasn’t enough. This coronavirus pandemic robbed us of time with him.

During his stay at the rehab, things got worse.

He went from a UTI in the hospital to contracting double pneumonia in rehab.

We had trouble processing this change in his health status, were fearful he would contract the coronavirus while in rehab, and struggled with not seeing him — and not being there to encourage him to not give up hope in recuperating.

Quarantine life and the coronavirus changed everything for us with how we dealt with Pop and his health crisis. It changed how he dealt with it.

Grief in the midst of real life

On Wednesday, April 15th, I was heading with my sister and two young nieces (we live in a duplex and are quarantined sort of together) to do a drive-by birthday surprise for my mother who lives about twenty minutes away. My birthday was the next day and my sister’s was on the 20th. April has always been a big month as our family celebrated our three birthdays together.

That day I still had the weight of my father-in-law’s health weighing heavily on my heart, but I had heard from my mother-in-law that morning — he seemed to be doing better.

Until later in the day.

While we were heading to my mom’s for the drive-by, I got a call from my mother-in-law. She said Pop was getting worse and we needed to go see him. I texted my husband with an URGENT message to call me from work.

I felt my head spinning and tried to hold back tears as I called my mother-in-law back. I didn’t want my five and six-year-old nieces to see me crying.

We got back home. My husband rushed back. Then we headed to the hospital to meet his mother, brother, and sister-in-law. We were surprised that the doctor allowed us to see Pop even though the hospital was still on lockdown.

We had to wear masks as soon as we got in the hospital. We could only go up to see Pop, two at a time. A nurse had to come down to the waiting room to bring us up in pairs to see Pop since we couldn’t touch anything such as the elevator buttons.

Pop was on oxygen with a mask strapped around his head. When we were not there, his wrists were strapped to the bed since he kept trying to pull it off. He was agitated and struggled to mumble some words incoherently.

He kept trying to pull his blanket up and then down. He tried to continually pull tubes off. We held his hands to try to keep him calm. It was so difficult seeing our once strong Pop in this condition.

We went back to Mom and Pop’s house and tried to comfort each other and hoped things would turn around.

Pop’s last moments

On Monday, April 20th, I was going to go next door to bring my sister her birthday present but got a call from my mother-in-law. She said Pop took a turn for the worse. She cried as she told me that the doctor wanted to host a Zoom call with us at 3 pm that afternoon.

I felt like the wind got knocked out of me. This couldn’t be happening. I had hoped and prayed that Pop was going to get better and be around longer.

I got off the call and sent another URGENT text to my husband to call me. He called his boss and got permission to leave the customer’s house (he does pest control) and rushed home.

Thankfully, I had gotten in touch with him before he drove to the next customer, which was located further away, so he was able to get home in time for the Zoom call.

That call was so difficult. The doctor said that she thought Pop may not last the night. We were supposed to say goodbye to him on a Zoom call.

What!?!? I couldn’t even imagine that. How was this even possible?

My mind was spinning out of control. I couldn’t even speak on the call. We listened as the doctor shared the gravity of the situation. She turned her phone to show us Pop while he struggled to breathe, while still on maximum oxygen.

The doctor shared that he was on ninety percent oxygen while we usually only breathe in twenty percent in a normally healthy individual. Pop had been on oxygen and antibiotics for sixteen days, but he was not meeting any of the levels that he should have for returning to full health and wellness.

They had tested him several times for COVID-19, but amazingly he had not contracted it. If he had, we never would have been able to say goodbye in person.

Hearing those words — on a Zoom call — seemed even worse.

The doctor didn’t think she’d be able to get us back in to see him for the last time.

It was the most horrible situation I’d ever found myself in. The doctor’s words droned on, but I did hear when she said that only two people could go in to see Pop one last time before they removed the oxygen. Then, he could be gone from our lives in a matter of minutes.

Minutes.

That’s all we’d have left with Pop.

We didn’t want him to suffer anymore. The doctor prescribed morphine for Pop so he’d be in less pain and it wouldn’t be as difficult for us to see him as agitated as he had been last week.

My brother-in-law asked if at least three people could go see him so he, my husband, and their mother could go. The doctor allowed that. My sister-in-law and I might not be able to go. That’s how the Zoom called ended.

That thought crushed me, but at least they would be able to spend some final moments with him.

The doctor got off the Zoom call, but we stayed on a few minutes longer. My brother-in-law told my husband and me to just drive to mom’s house. We lived further away then they did. He said his wife, who is a nurse, was going to try to speak to Pop’s other doctor, during the shift change to see if she and I could also go see Pop.

We got the call while we were driving to mom’s house and heard that both of us could see Pop as well. That was a difficult hour-long drive.

It was such a surreal situation going to see Pop for the final time.

The same procedure applied. The nurse came to take us two at a time to see Pop.

My husband and I sat with Pop for an hour. He played old hymns on the Pandora app for Pop to hear since those were his favorite types of songs. We held his hands. I was thankful they had given him morphine, so he struggled less and wasn’t mumbling incoherently.

Toward the end of our time together, I was able to muster the strength to lean close (since Pop didn’t have his hearing aids in), and tell him that I was so grateful that he’d welcomed me into his family — and treated me like his own daughter. I told him I loved him like he was my dad. My relationship with my own father, who passed away a few years ago, had been fractured a long time ago. Pop had been a real dad to me.

I know Pop heard me because he squeezed my hand really tightly and I saw tears running down his cheeks. That was a cathartic moment for me.

The nurses in the ICU who cared for Pop were so compassionate. We thanked them profusely for their time tending to him. The two nurses assigned to Pop were concerned for ensuring that his last days were humane and as comfortable as possible.

They were advocates for making sure he had a morphine drip and that he was weaned off the oxygen, so it would not be all at once — as the doctor had mentioned in that Zoom call. They agreed with us, and my sister-in-law (a nurse), that it would be cruel to Pop to take away all that oxygen at such a high level at once.

They gave our immediate family a copy of his heartbeat scan and a card with his fingerprints in the shape of a heart.

We will cherish that and thanked them for their thoughtfulness in providing this to us.

The funeral and burial

The funeral was held Saturday, April 25th. We could only have ten people in attendance due to state restrictions from COVID-19 and quarantine life. Somehow, my brother-in-law convinced the funeral director to allow us to add five more people so mom’s sister and brothers and their spouses could also attend.

Coronavirus made this burial process so much more difficult than it would have been otherwise.

We had to wear masks while grieving his loss during the funeral service. My husband’s big Italian family could not attend the viewing to see Pop for one last time before the burial.

We were allowed some leniency with having more people attend the burial, but we had to adhere to strict social distancing, wearing masks, and not receiving the typical hugs and human contact that can help you weather this type of grievous experience.

My husband’s family is used to huge gatherings. We could only have our immediate family — the same 15 people at mom’s house afterward to get through that first afternoon without Pop.

Dealing with our loss

Today, while at home writing this article, it really hit me like a ton of bricks that I won’t see Pop anymore — with him asking me how I’m doing, or how my article writing is going, or if I’ve finished edits on my next novel yet. I spoke to my husband several times today. He went back to work after the three days off for bereavement.

He was hit today too with waves of sadness.

I know we are going through the normal stages of grief.

However, dealing with loss during COVID-19 has made things even more difficult.

My father-in-law was a strong man who lived for his family and his faith. Most importantly — he was my beloved dad. He welcomed me into his family and made me feel special, like a daughter. He made an indelible impression on my life — and will never be forgotten.

He’s not suffering anymore, and for that I am grateful. He’s in a better place now. I know someday that we’ll see him again.