Tuesday 1 December 2020

Loss in a Time of Covid: The good, the bad, and the out of one's control

In mid-February, I went for lunch with my grandmother. I never imagined that dessert would be followed with news that she was sick. I equally did not anticipate her request not to tell a soul, unless she could tell them in person. At the time, my brother was away, so you can imagine how hard it was not only receiving that news, but to keep it hidden from Michael, for a week or so.

That drive home and the rest of the day is a blur. My heart was broken for my sweet Myrtle - just 6 weeks away from her 93rd birthday, and about the amount of time her prognosis was initially given.

To make matters worse, just two weeks before her birthday, Nova Scotia entered into a “two week” lockdown to help reduce the spread of Covid-19. This would mean I’d most likely miss her birthday for the first time in years, or at least when I was in the country. Time was of the essence and this staying the blazes home wasn’t really working for me.

But my Gran and I maintained contact throughout the months of quarantine that followed, through daily phone calls, and the occasional grocery drop off. I found it difficult not to drive down for our regular weekend visits, but was happy to have what communication we had - particularly as she seemed to surpass the expectation of the remainder of her life.

Then, before I knew it, we were permitted to visit with a small number of people. Grammy, of course, was top of my list. In fact, during Ramadan this year, “Hug my Gran” was the first item on my list of things to accomplish after lockdown. That first hug was EVERYTHING.

Throughout the summer, we spent time chatting about nothing over coffee, going on random adventures, and feeling grateful for the time we were now able to share. We were, in fact, making up for lost time.

Near the end of July, the climate crisis and the realities of Covid caught up to me, and I took several days off with the intention of plunking myself in the woods for a few days, without any contact from the outside world - just me, my thoughts, a forest of trees, a book, and a pen and paper. But as luck would have it, a man fled police custody on charges of attempted murder, and was hiding out in the very woods I was supposed to be. All of the emotions I was trying to keep in came flooding out, and I found myself, instead, in the comfort of my grandmother’s home along the South Shore.

On the first night of our three-day sleepover, I told her we were going out for the evening. We had dinner at home, and promptly jumped into the car. I took her to Peggy’s Cove, which is just a short drive from her home. We found a quiet spot away from the crowds, and for which, would accommodate our bottoms and we watched the sun set. She admitted she had never witnessed the sunset from this location. I was dumbfounded, as it was so close and she and my grandfather would go for sunrise each year on Easter Sunday.

As we sat, we talked about how the world had changed over her lifetime. We talked about how lucky we were to live in a part of the world that was home to so many people of different backgrounds, interests, and journeys. We talked about climate change, what the future might look like, and how beautiful the sun was tucking itself into the ocean. I left Peggy’s Cove that night thinking, if she passes tonight, my heart will be at peace.

But lo and behold, she exceeded all expectations. The summer transitioned into fall, and in that time we had many more days out, sleepovers, coffee, and conversation.

Last week, I received a message from my aunt telling me that my Gran was asking for me. I promptly left work and made my way down to my grandmother’s. When I arrived she was sound asleep. I didn’t wake her, but instead spent this time chatting with my aunt and helping her with a few little things around the house. And then Grammy awoke.

We spent the next hour chatting. I recorded most of the conversation, asking her questions about her first date with my grandfather, regret, her greatest accomplishment, and her life, more generally. I will treasure those recordings for years to come. It was my last conversation with her. 

Three days later, my brother called and told me I needed to come down. It was a miserable, rainy day and I was hesitant. But I made the drive. It took me longer than usual, but I will forever be grateful for doing so. She passed away about an hour after I arrived. My brother held her hand and I sat next to them both as she took her last breath. Finally, she was at peace and (hopefully) reunited with her beloved Jimmy.

I have experienced a lot of loss in my life. Grandparents, aunts and uncles, friends, and my mother. All mostly sudden. All met with varying levels of shock. This time was, and is, different. Of course I miss her, and will continue to do so, but my gratitude and relief for her to no longer be suffering has outweighed any sadness. Why do we allow ourselves to accept this end of life for the humans we love, but not other species we feel equally fond of?

Usually in my experience, the days following a death are met with a busy schedule of phone calls to family and close friends, making funeral arrangements and a long list of preparations that are unknowingly exhausting until after everything has been completed. But with Covid, there is no funeral to plan. A 5 people maximum hardly sounds like the right way to say so long to a woman who was regarded by so many at such a level. Plus, many of our family members are not in the province, and therefore, are unable to come home.

The morning after she passed, I spent most of the day feeling lost. The post-death routine wasn’t possible - so what does one do? Do I go to work? Should I be struck with grief? Should I be helping to plan something? Everything seemed off. Even how others support you is different - which as an omnivert, the more introverted part of me was thrilled not to have people coming to my house dropping off lifetime supplies of lasagna (still happily willing to accept any you want to send my way, though!!).

The truth is, my Gran deserved better than this scenario. All around. But, when it’s safe to do so, and everyone can come home, we will give her a proper send off. We will gather, swap stories and share moments of both tears and laughter. But until that time can happen, I am grateful for the bonus months we had this year, that I was with her in the end, and for the many things she imparted on me. She was, in short, the Matriarch. The strongest, most stubborn, classy, and glass half-full woman I have ever known. My heart. My hero.

- Myrtle’s granddaughter.

3 comments:

  1. Oh Emily - I am here with tears in my eyes. It is hard to cope with loss. Having lost dear Archie last year, I have a good idea of what you are going through. I wish I had called Myrt during the summer. I spoke with her at the beginning of the Covid19 thing, but not since then. I was looking forward to our Christmas conversation. As I had planned spending Christmas in Halifax this year, I was thinking I might get to Ingramport for a visit. Of course I won't be going to Halifax. You and Michael had a special relationship with your Grandmother and she loved you both so much and spoke of you often. So remember the happy times. Thank heavens for memories. They do help a little. xo

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  2. That was so heartfelt and beautifully written. ❤️

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  3. My heart hurts for you, Emily, even though I only just "met" you not long ago.

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