On December 9, 2020 we all found out my mother-in-law and her disabled son tested positive for Covid-19. Her personal care worker had come to work sick with no mask. The service didn’t even apologize or help her get stuff.

We were diagnosed on December 11, 2020 — my husband, me and our granddaughter. She was sent to the hospital by me on the 18th of December and then was sent to the rehab for quarantine. She had little interaction with staff and the day she came out of quarantine she was diagnosed with double pneumonia. She didn’t even make it to her room at the nursing home, on December 26, 2020. She was put on a bipap machine and her oxygen was turned all the way up. Instead of helping her, the nursing home gave her speech therapy though she couldn’t breathe right.

On January 1, 2021 her lung collapsed. She held out till January 4th at 5 am when she died. She refused machines because she didn’t want her son to have to take her off. She died less than a month after being diagnosed. I blame the health care at the nursing home. And the hospital for transferring her too soon.

My dad was a great father until I was 12, when he remarried and moved a continent away. For the next 38 years, we got glimpses of who he really was when he visited we kids, alone. I hate that he had to hide himself from us when he was with his wife. Yes, it was his choice, but I wish he’d made different choices. He died of a preventable, treatable condition but he delayed treatment out of fear of getting COVID (pre-vaccine).

The person in his life who should have been compassionate and helpful blocked us in every attempt to have information about his condition or talk to him, but I’m grateful to nurses who helped us gain access at the last minute so I could have a precious, final 2-minute call with him. What upsets me most is that we loved him so, SO much, but he couldn’t let us in. I believe that people come into our lives to learn a lesson, and sadly, I don’t think Dad did. I hope that whatever comes next for him gives him the freedom to learn what he needs to learn, but in the meantime, I am so sad. I miss him. I missed him when he was alive, and now I miss the lost opportunity to even try to get him to let me in.

He was not well educated. Grew up in Mississippi during the depression. I think he read at less than a 8th grade level BUT he worked two jobs to make sure all his children had the chance to have a good education. Until I was an adult trying to balance work/life I never realized how much he sacrificed. And he was a coach on my brothers’ tee ball and baseball team and a scoutmaster. I was his first born, a girl that he spoiled and was so proud of, even if he didn’t understand the subjects I was studying in college.

He was in assisted living, I was working somewhere that had me coming into work and I was worried about passing the virus to him, so I didn’t visit as often as I wanted to. And then, after the vaccines, we thought it would be better but I was still careful. I got to see him on his 92nd birthday in September. Then in November, right before he was supposed to get his booster, he received a positive test. They said he was stable though on oxygen and if we wanted to see him we would have to totally suit up. He had dementia and hearing loss from his work. We decided that it would be too disorientating for him to see us like that. So we stayed away.

And then on November 12th, the facility called to say that he had passed in his sleep. I still imagine holding his still-rough hands, and telling how much I loved the fact that my mother would complain about how whenever he came home when I was I baby all he wanted to do was hold me. I told you I was spoiled.

Sometimes in the middle of the night, I wake up, and it’s almost like I am back in my childhood room and I can hear/feel my father in the next room and everything is good. I am safe and loved. And this is the memory I will hold on to. Forever, my favorite guy from Mississippi.

Tony was a bright spot in so many lives. He always had a smile on his face, greeted co-workers, worked his butt off and was proud of every minute of every day. His routine was pretty set in stone because he was on the spectrum, but with preparation, he was willing to compromise. The highlight of each year was a summer trip to Denver where he had to go to the Coors Brewery in Golden and have one, maybe two small beers because “he didn’t want to become an alcoholic.” We also had to attend the Rockies fireworks game and stay to watch the last glitter fall from the sky. This trip included dinner at the restaurant attached to the stadium. It was “tradition”.

So many people lost a very important person when he died. Unlike many who succumbed to Covid-19, we were very lucky in that Tony’s death was quick, so quick we had no way to prepare. We thought we had our usual early fall allergies, no reason to think otherwise; we washed our hands, wore our masks, stayed away from crowds, but it still found us. Because we all thought we had allergies, I stayed home from work those two days and will never regret that decision. He was doing his usual activities on his computer and at lunch time, stood up and said “Whoa, I am really dizzy.” He made his way to his recliner and sat down, asked someone to fix his lunch (which he always did himself) and died. His father and I had the blessing to complete that circle of life with him. We had been there at his birth and were there with him just four days after his birthday to see him taken home with God.

We have experienced all those questions of was he vaccinated? – answer no, not developed yet. Underlying health issues? – answer just a mere 3 weeks earlier, his doctor told him how proud he was for the positive directions he had taken on his overall health.

We were also blessed in that we could have a funeral for him. although I asked that those attending wear masks and social distance. It was a beautiful celebration of a wonderful man’s life. But, I will always grieve the loss of my firstborn that came way too soon. There are still people who have not heard that Covid took him; so many are uncomfortable that they never heard. But, times were weird and communication not what it always was, and I have the opportunity to share with them the marvelous person we lost. It has become my mission to never let him be forgotten. Those who have lost their lives to Covid must not be swept under the rug. We need to remember them and their loss the way all losses are remembered.

I read someone is trying to get a Federal holiday for Covid victims; what a great idea to remember so many great people!!

I don’t remember a single day I spent with my grandpa Ron where he didn’t have a smile on his face. And what a smile it was – like the first warm ray of sunshine breaking through thick Oregon clouds. Gregarious, joyful, and endlessly delighted to be around the people he loved, my grandpa often seemed to literally light up every room he was in. It as as though he brought the sun with him everywhere he went, making everything around him warm and bright.

Ron loved his family, and I’ll always remember how special I felt whenever I was around him. He was my biggest cheerleader through engineering school and he told all his friends how proud he was of me. I regret that the last time I saw him was over a year before he died in September 2021. I was stupid and young and didn’t understand how precious my time with him was. I saw him one more time for his eighty-fifth birthday, when we all got together over Zoom to celebrate. He was so delighted that he could talk to all of us over the computer! But I never saw him again. He was admitted to the hospital with COVID complications a week before he was supposed to get his booster, and died less than ten days later. The hospital didn’t even let me talk to him over the phone, but I asked a nurse to tell him that I love him. I don’t know if he ever got the message.

He was so proud when I told him that I had finally started my dream job as an engineer for NASA. Despite the overwhelming challenges of the pandemic, our spacecraft is due to launch on schedule in August. Our PI commissioned a plaque to go on the spacecraft, commemorating those we lost. My grandpa Ron is finally going up among the stars, where he has always belonged.