Every day I find myself looking at my phone and wishing I could see my brother’s number light up just one more time. I still cry wondering how he died. Was he able to breathe? I hope he knew I loved him. My heart still breaks that he like all of the COVID-19 victims, died alone. There is insurmountable pain not knowing how your loved one passed and unable to see them during that time. We should be mourning my Mom’s passing together, something I would have dreaded telling him. At sixty years old he was still a Momma’s boy! Instead of finding peace I find myself getting more and more upset every day. Ordinarily when someone passes people are kind and thoughtful. They may even avoid talking about your loved one’s death or cause of death.
Yes, there are many people who are heartbroken, hurting and afraid of contracting the virus themselves. They hurt for the 100,000+ people who have lost their lives to COVID-19. However, there are many who believe it’s a scam. Fake. A conspiracy. Just the flu. (The seasonal flu does not kill 100,000 people in under ninety days. I believe the seasonal flu takes 60,000 lives over an eight month plus period). These callous people have no problem voicing their delusional opinions and they don’t care who they hurt. Perhaps if it were their Mother, Brother, Cousin, Son, Daughter, or friend, it would be different. Maybe not.
100,000 + innocent human beings have died and we’re debating whether or not we should wear a mask and if we do we’re sheep.
Why is everything political? Why this?
Health care workers have been through hell and back risking their lives all over the world and particularly right here in New York, the epicenter above all places. They have come from all across the country to help New Yorkers during our most desperate time. Many of them will never be the same. Did they miss that part?
Everyone knows everyone here. From the mortician who was overwhelmed with bodies to the contractors who were building make shift morgues to the first responders who couldn’t go home to be with their families after work for fear of spreading the virus. Or, the nonstop sirens that went on for weeks unend or the neighbor(s) who lost not one but two family members to COVID-19. Or, the child up the street who contracted the immune response disease due to COVID-19.
Fake? Did they stop knowing these folks?
We want to mourn. We have not been able to mourn properly. Because of COVID-19 there are no funerals. Excluding immediate family, no one is able to pay their last respects. No family get togethers where family and friends comfort one another. Our loved ones didn’t get the respect and dignity they deserved in a final goodbye and they’re certainly not getting it now.
I want to heal.
Instead I’m angry. Angry because it’s turned into some kind of political theatrics where anyone who promotes wearing a mask is called a sheep. 100,000 innocent human beings are dead and you want to call people who want to stay healthy “sheep”? Let me rephrase that: my brother died from COVID-19 and because I don’t want to die, I’m a sheep?
Shame on you.
In addition to that, the survival rate gets tossed around a lot with no compassion for the 100,000 who DIDN’T survive. “It’s not as bad as it was predicted to be “.
W H A T?
I wonder how history will rewrite this story. I wonder how many more will die. I wonder how many will have to find out the hard way that this is very real. When this started it was called the invisible enemy. It’s apparent now we have more than one enemy.