Grief is Delayed During a Pandemic

Summary

The author reflects on the delayed experience of grief following their mother's death during the pandemic, detailing the emotional and practical steps taken in the aftermath, and the recent resurgence of their grief.

Abstract

The author describes the complex nature of their grief after losing their mother in January, with the intensity of emotions becoming more pronounced in June. Despite the swiftness of their mother's passing, they managed to fulfill various responsibilities such as writing the obituary, organizing a meal train, and delivering a eulogy. The pandemic context limited traditional mourning practices, with many people unable to attend the service in person. The author grapples with the possibility of hosting a memorial service and the misconception that their mother died from COVID-19. As life begins to resume some normalcy, the author feels the absence of their mother more acutely, especially when engaging in family traditions. The pandemic has also taught them to cope with solitude, but the reality of their mother's permanent absence remains a challenging aspect of their life moving forward.

Opinions

The author acknowledges the body's survival mechanism that focuses on external tasks rather than internal emotions during a crisis.
They express that grief can be an unexpected visitor, arriving when one least expects it.
There is a sense of disconnection from the traditional grieving process due to the pandemic, with many people not attending services and the author feeling the need to share a video of the service.
The author is unsure about hosting a memorial service, weighing the emotional impact of reliving the loss against the desire to connect with those who could

I lost my Mom in January, but it feels like it just happened.

Photo from writer’s private collection

It is now June, and I thought of my mom more in the last week than I have since January. As it can be with death, it happened so quickly. In the moments leading up to the news that was inevitable, I made a promise to myself to not disassociate. I also think our bodies go into survival mode and focus on those around us rather than the swirling, deep, intense emotions happening within us.

I took time off of work. I wrote the obituary. I reached out to lifelong friends of my moms. I added to the eulogy. I shared out a meal train for my dad. I prepared outfits and had my daughter’s haircut. I urn shopped with my older brothers. Found a charity that embodied everything my mom stood for. I prepared lesson plans for work. I dressed up and delivered a touching eulogy.

I know people came masked and stayed briefly to express their sympathy. A lot did not come, and I shared a video. The service ended and someone was holding an urn and flowers. The urn went home with my dad.

The world does not stop because there was a death. One foot in front of the other. Wake up, go to work, organize after-school activities and go outside. It snowed so much this winter, yet I remember being outside a lot. People told me grief comes when it is unexpected.

It still feels like a loose end. Do I host a memorial service and touch base with people who could not attend? Do I relive the moments of “what happened?” A lot of people assumed she died due to the Coronavirus. She did not. I am not one to focus on medical details. I never understood unless someone actually had the same condition as why their curiosity ruled the conversations.

Here we are in June. I miss my mom. In May we planted a weeping cherry tree and named it “Dotty” which was a family name. I wish my mom could see it. She’d think it was pretty. I started walking with one of her close friends. I know she would want us to stay in touch.

Last June she was here in body. She was writing letters to my daughter and making treats for us. The world is opening up and I am experiencing life in an unpaused way, returning to some old traditions, and now my mom is not there to share them with us.

The pandemic taught me how to be alone for long stretches of time, but this reality is that the feelings of permanent loss are here for the rest of my life.