Monday was the funeral and I really don’t want to write about it. Aside from it being a cold, gray, rainy and windy morning, it was certainly not the funeral I’d pictured for my mother. I’d always envisioned the entire family–three generations– gathered together, along with our special friends, to cry and laugh and comfort each other with funny stories and memories. I had the photo dvd ready to play in the background. I knew what music my mother would like. I thought there would be hugs. Wine. Food. A bittersweet celebration of a life well lived.
Severe restrictions due to Covid-19 prevented all of that. And let me tell you, it hurt. A lot.
I feel so sad for other people who have had to bury loved ones during this time. I cannot imagine the pain that they’re going through. Not many would have the “she lived a long and happy life” feelings given to an 94-year old woman. Ours was a simple grief. While so many others are not.
How are large families coping when only five are allowed to mourn together and one of those is the minister or priest?
How is comfort given and received when people have to stand six feet away and aren’t allowed to hug?
My heart breaks for everyone. I don’t know how people are dealing with it. I was absolutely devastated despite my own loss being an expected and inevitable one.
I’m pretty damn sad right now, but I’m sad for everyone who has had to deal with the lonely passing of someone they love.
This is a cruel time.
I hugged my daughter Monday. Yep. Flew caution to the wind and hugged her as hard as I could.
The good old days. Not one mask! And no social distancing.