Goodbye

Summary

The website content reflects on the collective mourning and the impact of Covid-19, honoring those who have died and emphasizing the importance of unity and action to overcome the pandemic.

Abstract

The article "Goodbye: Mourning Those Taken by Covid" by Liza Braude-Glidden is a poignant reflection on the personal and societal impact of the Covid-19 pandemic. It acknowledges the ordinary agonies of loss, contrasting traditional farewells with the distant, technology-mediated goodbyes imposed by the pandemic. The piece pays tribute to the diverse individuals, including healthcare workers and essential service providers, who have died, and it underscores the disproportionate impact on elders and Native Americans. The author describes a visit to a cemetery, illustrating the varied ways people mourn and the fortunate few who find a semblance of normalcy in their grief. The article calls for active remembrance and solidarity, advocating for vaccination and adherence to health measures as a means to honor those lost and protect the living. It concludes with a message of hope and responsibility, urging readers to recognize their role in the collective response to the pandemic and to weave beauty from the experience of living and dying.

Opinions

The author expresses a personal struggle with saying goodbye, emphasizing the emotional toll of the pandemic's restrictions on farewells.
There is a deep respect and gratitude for the healthcare workers and others who risked their lives during the pandemic, acknowledging their sacrifices.
The article suggests that ignoring the pain of those who have lost loved ones diminishes our collective humanity.
It criticizes the notion of silence as a response to the loss of life, advocating instead for active remembrance and societal change.
The author conveys a sense of injustice, quoting Terry Pratchett's character DEATH to highlight the inequities exacerbated by the pandemic.
The piece introduces a metaphorical representation of angels who challenge passive mourning and encourage a more engaged form of grief that leads to action.
It calls for a broader perspective on the pandemic's toll, recognizing the global scale of suffering and the need for a unified response.
The author encourages vaccination as a way to protect oneself and others, framing it as a tribute to those who did not survive.
There is an appeal to readers to transcend divisions and act in solidarity to combat the pandemic and its effects.
The article ends on a note of optimism, suggesting that the shared experience of the pandemic can lead to a more compassionate and prepared society.

Mourning Those Taken by Covid

Pixabay public domain

My parents and grandparents died of ordinary agonies. We sang to them and held their hands. No careworn angel grasped a smartphone in which our tiny images And distant voices said goodbye.

I suck at goodbyes. Even ending a phone call can leave me awkward and breathless— And now each of us must add our distinct voice: Goodbye, known and unknown kinfolk and lovers! And to those of you grieving your loved ones, we mourn with you, Each of us holds a sliver of your crushing loss. If we turn away from your pain, we diminish ourselves.

In my entire career, said an emergency room doctor, I’ve never sent so many people home in body bags. These are our beloved dead, Many of them were nurses, doctors, caregivers, meat packers, Delivery people, first responders, farmworkers…. Who risked death to save us and keep us safe. 20% were elders. Native Americans lost 256 souls for every 100,000 tribe members. Were these deaths in vain? Will they be remembered? If we turn away in silence, we diminish one another.

Reed and I visited a hillside cemetery Where plaques mark the ashes of my parents and grandparents, Their plot was quiet, While on the next slope of graves, New oceans of mourners flooded the sod with flowers

Some brought folding chairs and picnicked while their children played Others, all in black, mumbled along with a shawled minister Bowing their masked faces. Drilling disbelieving eyes into disturbed earth. These were the lucky ones who found a way to mourn.

One friend had to say his goodbyes while housebound in isolation. Another felt her only course was to pave over sadness, rage, terror, With casseroles, binge-watching, and pills. Goodbye, Kinfolk, friends, Lovers! “THERE’S NO JUSTICE,” said Terry Pratchett’s character, DEATH, “JUST US.”

The angels of just us aren’t interested in vengeance, They live in a vast temple where all of our hearts gather. Blind to the surface, their winged bodies plunge like raptors Into the core of each of us, Their sharp beaks devour our empty passivity; That’s how they save us from shrinking into pawns of our worst impulses.

In the center of our temple, They lit a candle for each of over 2.65 million Who died of Covid on earth so far. Our tears magnify the blaze, Then we discern these millions are only a glimmer In a wildfire of suffering. The dead open our eyes so wide we can never go back to squinting Gone are the narrow slits where light struggled to enter, and now, Radiance drenches us.

We are the beloved living, Sinking our roots deep beneath the adoring grass. We must hold on a while longer, Wearing our masks, Keeping distances that belie our yearnings We need to beat this thing for those who didn’t make it, And those precious beings dying even now. The vaccine didn’t reach them in time, But you and I can receive a shot of immunity in their name, Protecting ourselves and everyone. We can diminish this disease that prospered through denial. We can be better prepared next time.

We are the ones who can breathe When breath was taken from so many, By disease, by institutionalized injustice, Let’s not wait for death to unify us.

May the waters of life fall from the sky with mercy Cleansing not drowning us. May the bereaved earth and the choking air forgive us. May we labor to be worthy, in our own eyes, Of our place in the earth and cosmos.

No matter what comes, may we weave strange beauty Out of living and dying. Three of us, then four, ten, ten million This is no march in formation, It’s a traveling dance— Goodbye, Kinfolk, friends, lovers, goodbye! Let us love the living and bless the dead. Those of us whose blood still flows have the honor of saying goodbye, We have the chance to breakthrough for us all.