Items

• 2021-12-04

  Grief and Loss in a Pandemic

  Most consider dying during the pandemic the end of the story, but for my family and myself, the death of my sister was the undoing of our culture. On March 13, 2021, just over a year since Covid-19 was declared a pandemic, my younger sister took her own life after a life-long battle with epilepsy, anxiety, depression, and PTSD. She was the youngest of my five siblings, aunt to fourteen nieces and nephews, and mother to two sons. My entire family, with the exception of one sister, all live within minutes of one another. Although we were raised as a close-knit family, disagreements had developed, resentments grew, and we all allowed “social distancing” to justify our lack of contact and communication for almost the entire year. And just like the rest of the nation, our family was divided by political and pandemic beliefs. As I mentioned above, my sister overcame her relentless struggles every day for almost forty years and on March 13, 2021, she lost that battle. Since that day, we have all theorized how the isolation brought on by the pandemic must have played a major role. However, we are only left with assumptions as she didn’t leave a note. What I do know for certain, is my family and I had no idea how to grieve during the pandemic. Social distancing, occupancy restrictions, stay-at-home orders and mask mandates challenged every aspect of how our Hispanic culture grieves. After an entire year of living in isolation, coming together as family, came with conflicted feelings of cultural proclivity and the health of our loved ones. As my family rushed to my parents’ home upon hearing the tragic news, there was a twinge of apprehension as we sought comfort one another’s arms. By midafternoon, their home was overcome with family overwhelmed with anguish, while instinctively gauging six feet distance. While notifying friends and family, tears and words of comfort gave way to requests to leave a note at the makeshift shrine in the front yard in lieu coming inside. Making arrangements meant we had to settle for any location willing to allow all forty of us at the memorial. Non-family members would only be allowed to walk through to say their last good-bye, once the family left the building to not exceed occupation restrictions. The cemetery would only allow fifteen people at the gravesite, not the dozens of friends and family who wanted to share their condolences. My mom, still reeling with loss, wanted to include those she loved and who loved my sister and chose a plot next to the street so the other family members could stand off the property while my sister was laid to rest. Following the burial, instead of opening our home and coming together to celebrate her life, we selected a secret location that wouldn’t be known to non-family members. Nine months later, despite continued cases and deaths, Covid restrictions have lessened and most people have resumed their lives as they were pre-Covid. For my family and I, losing my sister still feels unreal. I saw her in her final resting place, but grieving in my culture looks and feels so different than what I experienced. We find comfort and healing in community and in each other’s arms. We open our home to friends and family and welcome their offerings of condolences. We come together to share food, memories, and loss and we find healing. The pandemic unraveled all we knew about how to deal with loss, and the grief remains in isolation, unable to transition into acceptance.