I have sat down numerous times over the last several months to write this post about living life in the time of Corona and each time I have gotten up from the computer unable to finish it. On my walk/run this morning, as I wondered and wandered, a few thoughts really took hold to pull my thoughts together. As my pace picked up from a walk, to a trot, to a run I imagined what Forrest Gump was thinking as he sat on the porch with his new Nike tennis shoes that Jenny gave to him. The thoughts that made him start running and keeping him going for 3 years, 2 month, 14 days and 16 hours. “You got to put the past behind you, before you can move on.” Forrest said. I’ve also been thinking about how hard the last 10 or so months have been, many times feeling like I wanted to just start running like Forrest and a few things have kept me here and moving: my very dear friend Kellyn who reminds me that ‘no matter where you go, there you are’, M. Scott Peck in The Road Less Traveled: “Life is difficult. This is a great truth, one of the greatest truths. It is a great truth because once we truly see this truth, we transcend it. Once we truly know that life is difficult-once we truly understand and accept it-then life is no longer difficult. Because once it is accepted, the fact that life is difficult no longer matters.” and most importantly, my daughter. Technically, I could start running to get away from life, yet there is no escaping my thoughts and the need to deal with my grief. You have to go through it and live it before you can move on.
There was no way I could run from my responsibility of being a mom and I didn't want to. My daughter was in her senior year of high school, in several performances and applying for colleges, with all that entails, including college visits, late nights of homework and applications and just keeping her head above water. She has been my Big Why since even before birth and is still a big motivating factor in decisions I make and my raison d’etre. In early March, the stars were aligning as she selected her top college choice and we waited anxiously for their response to her application which was twofold: Honors and Fine Arts colleges. When she got the ”YES” from both, I finally registered for a life coaching class that would meet in D.C. once a month starting in August. This would mean I would get to fly to the east coast and get to see her and her grandparents before each two-day class in D.C. It would help me transition more easily as an empty nester and getting used to the fact that I wouldn’t see her each day, even if only in passing. Everything started falling apart by mid-March as places went on lockdown due to COVID 19. Little did I know how much loss was coming my way within a short few months and how the COVID 19 timeline across the world was a parallel timeline to my own.
The virus timeline, runs parallel with my family’s loss and grief timeline. In early October, as we now know the virus was spreading in China, my former Father-in-Law (ex-husband’s stepfather) started feeling bad. After some testing, the doctors discovered that the colon cancer that Pops fought so well a few years ago had returned and spread to other parts of his body. When I got the call from my former Mother-in-Law, Linda, that Pops wasn’t doing well and that they were going to reach out to Hospice, I immediately started looking at my calendar and mapping out my visit. I bought a ticket the next day once I could make all the arrangements needed with/and for my daughter and for work. I am so very thankful for the few days I spent with both of them at the beginning of November, spending quality time with both of them and some precious moments with my sisters-in-law, brother-in-law and his new girlfriend (now wife) and some extended family that came to visit. There were plans to return at Thanksgiving when my daughter, her dad and brother-in-law were returning to visit and sadly, Pops passed just before Thanksgiving. Pops treated me like one of his family even after I was no longer married to his stepson. He stepped in as a father for me, too, after my father passed away, 17 years ago on September 18.
As COVID began to spread and the US was still figuring out what actions to take and how to contain the virus, cities started shutting down and schools began sending kids home. Thankfully, Austin Leaders got together and made the tough decision to cancel South By Southwest that would have brought over 200,000 people to Austin from around the world. I am sure a huge number of cases of COVID would have started to appear, brought and spread by people who were asymptomatic and would have created a SUPER, super spreader event. This decision had a snowball effect on our family, too. Just days after celebrating Mother’s Day, my momma went into the hospital with pneumonia. We, as a family, were lucky because there was somewhat of a pause in cases of COVID and the hospital where my mother was sent, was virus free. This meant that I, and many of my siblings, were able to take 24 hour shifts and spend the night with her. I arrived on Saturday for my scheduled time with her just as her numbers were doing poorly and she was moved to ICU. Momma struggled during that time, maintaining all of her vitals including her blood pressure that kept dropping and difficulty breathing from the COPD and trying different masks to help get much needed oxygen to her lungs to help fight. I was eventually relieved by one of my brothers. I was very tired AND very grateful that she was not in the hospital like so many people who were suffering from COVID while their families were at home, not able to hold their hands and comfort them. On May 19th, the family text went around that she was not doing well at all. On a call with the doctor that morning, we were told that all the doctors and nurses had done all they could to help and her body and organs were shutting down. We called Hospice once again with the intent of getting her home and out of the hospital as soon as we could. I was so very torn that morning trying to figure out what to do next, rush to the hospital or not. If she made it home, I could see her there instead which was my preference for all of us and for her. That very day, my daughter was preparing for an AP exam and was also going to get a visit from her theatre teachers who were presenting her with a gift and wishing her well on her college journey and I didn’t want to miss it. After some frantic texting with siblings and her teachers, I told Nicole I had an errand to run and would be back after her exam. I raced to the hospital that was about 30 minutes away, so worried that I was going to miss seeing her that I missed the exit off of IH-35. I cursed in my car out loud when I got the text from one of my sisters that they were about to give Momma a shot of morphine to ease her suffering. Luckily I made it before the shot and was so thankful again that this hospital was COVID free and that we were able to be with her. I was able to stay for about 30 minutes before another sibling arrived and wanted to visit. The hospital was already allowing us in groups of 4 rather than the preferred 2 because there are so many of us. I raced back to the house to share some joy with my girl knowing her teachers would arrive at noon. As we waited for her teachers, who were running behind, I knew when it happened before the text came from a brother, she took her last breath just before noon on that Tuesday. She was gone. I cannot fathom the pain of so many who have lost loved ones due to COVID who are sitting at home, possibly seeing their family members for the last time via video. I am so thankful for all the nurses and doctors who work to give care to those who are suffering.
The week of mom’s death was a roller coaster of emotion and activity. More and more places closed down, including nursing homes, which meant no visitors in or out like the hospitals, in order to protect the very vulnerable populations. My kiddo has several graduation activities that week, all of them virtual. Her graduation, normally a rather plethora of emotions of happiness and sadness, ended up bringing a huge ray of light into the week on Friday, just before Mom’s services on Saturday. It was mostly family only, with a few friends scattered about, but my family is large, so there was still some discomfort surrounding the gathering punctuated by the difficulty maneuvering a family event where some took mask wearing seriously and others felt it was not needed.
As June progressed and numbers rose, more and more families were suffering with the loss of family members who would die alone, in hospitals struggling for their last breaths as COVID ravaged their lungs and bodies. We got the call end of June that Fifie was not doing well in the nursing home on Monday and my daughter’s birthday was on Thursday. I felt so horrible for my daughter who already had Mom's death and services bookend her graduation week and prayed that at least Fifie would not pass on her 18th birthday. We had not told our 106 year old nanny that mom had passed, we didn’t have the heart to tell her yet I still have a feeling that she knew, just like I knew. A sister and brother were able to get into the rehab center dressed in masks, gloves and surgery garb to see her. Luckily, I was able to FaceTime while one was there and when I told her I loved her, she did look towards the camera and blew a kiss. Fifie made it through to the end of the week and I received the call early on Saturday, June 27th that she fell asleep and didn’t wake up. While it wasn’t due to COVID that we know of, she passed away, alone, without her family there to hold her hand like so many of the now almost 200,000 who have died this year. I miss her hands that were rough from years of cooking, sewing and caring for us. I can still remember when I was young and not feeling well and she would rub Vick’s on my upper chest to make me feel better with her 'scratchy' hands. I am reminded of her scratchy fingers by necklace I wear around my neck with her finger print on the front and the date of birth and death on the back. I also think of the quote “On your headstone there is a dash that separates the date of birth and the date of death.” Fifie’s ‘dash’ was one of selfless love, doing so much for our family from cooking and doing laundry to kissing hurts and hugging sadness away. She came from Haiti to live with us when she was 53, the age I am today, and lived an entire second life here in the United States, her adopted home. She was the epitome of unconditional love for me and I miss her every day. My hope is that she knew how much she was loved even in the loneliness of the nursing home.
After much soul searching with all the grief in our lives, the Corona virus spread and the swirling craziness in America and the world, I decided to keep the commitment to myself and started the life coaching class at the beginning of August. With M. Scott Peck’s opening sentence swirling in my brain to quell some of my anxious thoughts, I took some deep breaths and clicked the Zoom link to start. The first weekend of class, we all spent time introducing ourselves. After each introduction, the master coaches took turns talking to us and expressing their observation of our essence. Master Coach Mark started asking me a few questions and made the analogy that I was like a shark, in constant motion in order to breath and stay alive. Just like Forrest kept running to process all that had happened in his life and get beyond the sorrow, Mark was spot on. I am carrying around 20 lbs of sadness and grief (figuratively and literally) and I must keep moving in order to breath, afraid that if I ever really stop to process the last 10 months of my life (and of America really starting back to November of 2016), I won’t be able to move again. My new commitment to myself is to look for the magic in life in hopes that over the next 12 months, rather than swimming like a shark, I will be able to shed the pounds of sadness. As each pound drops away, I will be able to swim with more curiosity, love, and light, not like a shark but instead like a dolphin leaping through the waves with pure joy and happiness and life will be magical once again.
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