Text & Image

How is the coronavirus pandemic affecting your life right now? Tell us about your experiences, feelings, and thoughts.

Yes, Dad, it was, indeed, a great run! My dad died last Wednesday. He was buried on Sunday. And because of the Time-of-Corona, we have completed our public mourning rituals a few days early. Dad is now by Mom’s side—and they are under a bench that reads, “It was a great run.” Yes, it was. We, the kids, ages 59 to 67, dodged some huge potential bullets. Dad lived in senior housing that did not have any cases of Covid. Phew! While Dad missed us, missed seeing us on a regular basis, missed the ability to go to play bridge or kibbitz in the dining room, missed visits with his lady friend, he did experience Zoom, while staying comfortably indoors. He was thrilled to watch his grandson get married — with only an hour’s notice. Dad was delighted to zattend (zoom + attend) the wedding, and was happy with the ability to watch the ceremony in his bathrobe. I am thankful for what Dad did not experience. He didn’t suffer with a debilitating illness, a recurrence of the throat cancer he had 18 years ago. He never faced years, months, or even weeks of disease. We learned that his esophagus stopped functioning. He couldn’t swallow anymore. It hurt to eat. He definitely did not want a feeding tube. And he never told us any of these things. He told one of his fellow residents that he was going. He wouldn’t see a doc and he didn’t complain. What did happen was that he woke up in poor health last Tuesday. We, the kids, rallied and coordinated implementing hospice and 24/7 care—which was in place by 7pm. My sibs and I all were able to visit Dad—a miracle in the Time of Corona. We talked with Dad, held his hands, looked into his eyes. He looked back. We were able to say goodbye. Last Tuesday, before midnight, Dad received his first dose of a morphine/Ativan mix. He died about 24 hours later. He lived 93 years, 8 months of a great life, and he experienced a relatively short exit. That, according to a friend’s campfire story late one night, was a blessing. Yes, we lost our dad. What we didn’t lose was months of agony, fear, anguish, self-doubt, exhaustion. My heart breaks for friends and acquaintances whose parents lose consciousness, or brain function, or dignity. The heartbreak of Covid is the distance of family members. There are stories of family members who cannot see or touch their parents. They stand outside, both psychological and geographical states away. So we faced the inevitable, and we prevailed. He prevailed. He is now buried under a bench that is designed for visits. Even in death, Dad can entertain, surrounded by family and friends. He had a great run.