I’m Not the Only One: Dealing with Grief in the Time of COVID

Physical distancing, necessitated by COVID-19, has left many of us feeling an unprecedented level of loneliness. Important events like birthdays and graduations have been postponed, morphed into strange digital events, or completely ignored. Even the casual get-togethers and accidental run-ins with old friends that we used to take for granted seem like events from some hyper-social alternate universe.

While this has been difficult, I’ve tried to contextualize my experience by appreciating my privileged ability to work from home, while others are forced to leave their houses for work or be fired. These “essential” workers risk their lives every day in order to provide for themselves and their families as well as to ensure services like food service and healthcare experience limited interruption. Unfortunately, my relatively sheltered and privileged reality came crashing down one morning several weeks ago. On May 8, I awoke to the news that my aunt—who had bravely battled cancer for seven years—had taken a drastic turn for the worse. She was ending her chemotherapy treatment and would be under hospice care for her few remaining days.

After months of intentionally avoiding family gatherings, mainly so I didn’t risk exposing my aunt’s already weakened immune system to the virus, I now had only a matter of days left with her. But even the decision to rush to be with her—something that under any other circumstances would have been a no-brainer—was now one with significant potential consequences. What if our family coming together would cause one of my grandparents to get sick? Could we really withstand another loss? While we did ultimately spend my aunt’s final two days together as a family, it largely occurred from a distance of six feet and behind the cover of masks that concealed all but our tear-filled eyes. 

After her passing, we were confronted by the question of the funeral. My aunt was a teacher for 27 years, meaning that in addition to family and friends, hundreds of former colleagues and students would certainly want to attend. Given the reality of the pandemic, however, the funeral was limited to immediate family, and seating was arranged in a socially distanced manner. Funerals are never enjoyable, but sitting in the church that day, with its cavernous ceilings and endless rows of pews—making the already small gathering feel even smaller—left me with a depth of sadness I had never before experienced and hope to never experience again. 

In the midst of this immense sadness, however, I’ve been blessed to see the lengths at which people are willing to go to comfort each other in times of hardship. A few weeks after the funeral, nearly one hundred of my aunt’s former co-workers organized a parade. They walked (in a socially-distanced manner, of course) down the street while my family and I sat in the front yard. They stopped and shared stories about the ways in which my aunt had touched their lives and made a positive impact on them. Despite the physical distance, I left feeling a close, personal proximity that I had been lacking these past few months. It was a simple act that took no more than an hour, but its impact will be felt for a lifetime.

I am far from the only person who has experienced loss during this time. Countless others have lost friends and family members to the virus, unable to visit them for fear of infection. More still have lost jobs and are facing what looks to be the greatest global economic downturn in decades. On top of all of this, the inequalities that have for too long gone unaddressed in our country have reached the point where they can no longer be ignored. The stark divisions in ideology regarding how we proceed from here have left almost everyone with feelings of uncertainty and distrust. Distrust of one another, of the government, and for some, I imagine, even distrust of themselves and their long-held beliefs.

As these examples and countless others illustrate, grief and anxiety are widespread phenomenona that touch each and every one of us at some point in our lives. Despite this fact, we often view them as discrete experiences that can only be understood through our self-centered worldview. If anything good can come from this crisis, I hope it is a broader understanding of our collective affliction. 

It is easy to turn inward during this time. To fall back and wallow in self-pity at the grand injustice of my personal grief. But this is neither a healthy nor fulfilling way to deal with such an experience. Rather, I am trying to think of others who may be going through a painful experience and how I can reach out and comfort them. As I experienced during my aunt’s parade, small acts of kindness and connection can have significant and lasting effects, effects that I hope anyone struggling can feel. But it requires us to set aside our egocentric tendencies and connect through our common struggle of the human experience. As the campaign I am working on would say, #LetsGoThere!

Opinion: Minneapolis is an example of how we can begin #WeavingCommunity

If you’ve turned on the news or checked social media in the past few weeks, you’ve likely seen at least one story framing the nationwide protests as tearing communities apart, causing mass destruction, and exposing the sharp divisions in our country. There are indeed sharp divisions in our country, and some destruction of property has occurred. I believe, however, that much of the media’s coverage has been a function of the old media adage, “if it bleeds, it leads.” People enjoy consuming controversial content, even better if what it shows is violent. We enjoy contrasting our own groups—always correct, intelligent, and civilized—with the “strange” nature of “the other.” As a Minnesota native who has witnessed the epicenter of these protests first hand, however, my experience is quite different from what you may see on your nightly news coverage. It has been one of communities coming together despite the seemingly insurmountable obstacles in their way.

While I was born in the suburbs, I consider Minneapolis my home. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of time spent at Twins or Timberwolves games and exploring the city’s countless museums. As a college student, Minneapolis has shaped me into the person I am today. Whether it be volunteering in the community, experiencing the cultural confluence of places like the Midtown Global Market, or simply roaming the streets with friends on a summer evening, these experiences are foundational to my worldview. Although I had been away from Minneapolis since before the events of the past few weeks, I returned on June 5 to participate in a march. While riding around Lake Street (the area of Minneapolis where most of the protests, rioting, and looting occured) on my bicycle, I was struck by the stark dichotomy before my eyes. While the destruction was obvious—with the crumbled remains of burned businesses resembling images I have seen of war torn countries—there was also a tangible feeling of growth and opportunity. 

I saw people helping each other sweep rubble from the streets, donation sites where community members had dropped off food and essential goods like diapers, and countless murals and signs. This juxtaposition of destruction and growth, sadness and happiness, separation and togetherness, has remained at the forefront of my mind. Later that day, while waiting for the march to begin, I watched as thousands of people of all ages, races, genders, and ethnic groups gathered into the plaza outside US Bank Stadium to listen to speakers and local musicians. The fact that such a diverse group could come together around a common cause is hopefully something in which we can all take solace.

As the march commenced and we made our way out of the city center into the surrounding neighborhoods, I was unsure of what to expect. I was happy to find that seemingly the entire community was in support. Handmade signs decorated the lawns and windows of nearly every house we passed. People perched on their front steps or reclined on lawn chairs offered calls of support, handed out water bottles, or simply raised a fist in the air as a symbol of solidarity. Even as we blocked traffic, cars honked in support, heads poked out of windows to yell encouragement, or, at worst, they simply turned their car around quietly and went to find a detour.

When we reached the intersection of 38th and Chicago, outside of the grocery store where George Floyd was murdered, I was once again struck by the contrasting images before me. On one side of the street, stores covered in freshly painted murals commemorating George Floyd and others who have died at the hands of police officers were surrounded by people solemnly paying their respects. In the surrounding streets and parking lots, however, was what could only be described as a block party—a celebration of life.  

Neighbors handed out free food as the smoke from dozens of grills cooking hamburgers and chicken wafted over the crowd. A DJ spun dance records, a man with a Polaroid snapped photos, and community organizers delivered speeches from atop a stage. Towering above all of this was the Speedway sign—previously used to advertise deals on hot dogs and soft drinks—now emblazoned with black letters reading “George Floyd Square.” The imagery of a man’s name rising from the same concrete where he was pinned, pleading for his life, for nearly nine minutes sent a powerful message from the people of Minneapolis. They had reclaimed this tragic event and transformed it into a time of healing and togetherness.

It’s devastating that the impetus for this community building was the loss of a life, and obviously nothing that is done now will bring George Floyd back to his family. But the sense of community and the hope for a better future that I’ve witnessed in Minneapolis these past weeks has been unlike anything I’ve seen before. From the ashes of the destruction, the opportunity for new growth is one that we cannot fail to pursue. Particularly in the midst of a global pandemic that has separated us for months, the need for connection—real, authentic, human connection that transcends arbitrary divisions—is at an all-time high. I think we can all benefit from considering the example set by those in Minneapolis and what we can do in our own lives to begin #WeavingCommunity.