There is not one of us who wasn’t affected by the pandemic. The global shutdown caused intense anxiety, depression and forced isolation that many had difficulty handling. The threat of illness; an unknown illness, and death was scary. The news reporting the numbers of the fallen from the Coronavirus (Covid-19) were becoming staggering. I, with my already compromised immune system, did not go anywhere. My husband was an “essential worker” so I had my anxiety and concerns every day he worked.
As a writer, however, being ‘cooped up’ wasn’t such a bad thing. I was productive on finishing my second book. Being housebound did, however, force me to confront my feelings. It was eerily quiet in the house without Schnookies which made me miss her just that much more. I found myself teary-eyed most of the time. I was cut off from human contact and Schnookies was no longer here either. I tried to hide behind a computer screen, but when focus became difficult, I knew it was because my emotions were emerging. I needed to keep moving forward with my healing. I have come so far. Schnookies loss knocked me off my ass, and I felt I was losing ground. Climbing out of my hole, I received a call that my beautiful cousin Sally had passed from Covid. I was devastated. She and I were two peas in a pod. She was bubbly, fun, had a giggle that could make anyone laugh and always had a smile. And since there was a shutdown, there was no service, no goodbye. A few days later, I received another call, my cousin Rick had also passed away, he died by suicide. Something I had a hard time understanding. He was a psychiatrist. We know who to reach out to, where the resources are and who to call. I still, to this day, have difficulty with his loss. He was a loving man. An intelligent man. Someone who would drop what he was doing to help one out. He was funny. He was fun. He left behind his wife and 3 children. Again, no service, no goodbye. Sally and Rick (Rick was married to Sally’s sister, my cousin) are from the same family. There was no comforting my cousins. There was no them comforting me. There would be no closure on either loss. Ever.
I was beginning to wonder if grief was never ending. Every stride I made toward healing, the bandage was yanked along with the scab and I bled all over again. The pain was just as raw, just as fresh, just as new. The losses seemed to multiply beyond my capability to handle them. Back to therapy I went.
I wasn’t crazy about this therapist, but she was in my network so I gave it a go. She listened, as they do, but she didn’t give me the insights Tony had (and I knew there would never be another him), she was conventional, so conventional in fact, that I knew where she was going before she got there. But she was someone to talk to, through a mask, but someone to talk to at least. I was able to let a lot of built up emotion out and she reiterated that we (counselors, therapists, psychiatrists) are human and oftentimes carry a heavy burden. I felt that. And I was less angry at Rick as I still think of some patients and the decisions they made. I didn’t have many sessions with her because we both knew she wasn’t what I needed.
I was hurting so much my body became weary. I felt my grief in every bone, every muscle. Sometimes I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe. It was hard to do some of the unconventional methods I had learned from Tony because we were still in shutdown mode, so all I could really do was hurt, cry and wait.
Next week: DNA Upheaval
Until Next Time…
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