In 2019, she came to stay with me to help me take care of my busy lifestyle and career, so that my kids never felt without. She not only raised her kids, she helped raise all of her grandchildren. Losing one of their primary caregivers has been so difficult. She was their best friend and made everything in life so much easier for everyone else. Her impact came in so many ways.

The senselessness of her loss drives the pain but the hurt eases every day.

Mom always taught us to have a godly appreciation for time and Mother Nature. She loved to teach about the stars and the planets in our sky and their connection with life on earth in harmony with numerology, which she said was studying the ways that numbers vibrate and how they are interconnected to life.

Mom had a passion for this because she believed in finding the meaning in life and the adventure of your life. She would help predict paths for people to take if they were struggling and provided answers for spiritual guidance. But nothing could have predicted, or prepared us, for the COVID tragedy that would take her from us forever.

Looking back, reflecting upon and trying to honor my mom’s life, it seems fitting that what she provided to others in her charting was like assistive guidance in growth and development. Maybe she knew that watching her teach how to move on, and enduring her own traumas, would help us one day get through the hardest grief of all, losing her. Her loss is so painful to bear but each day we heal just a little more.

To us, Mom was Gaya: Grandmom to all, one of the sisterhood, and comparable to no other.

In telling the story of how I lost my mother, aunt, & grandfather because of Covid-19, I am inviting you into my personal hell. It’s important I share our family’s story though, and that I begin with a positive memory of my mother, so that the horror of her death is not all that’s remembered.

My mother, Shirley Ivey, used to take care of developmentally delayed and physically handicapped individuals; children and adults. One Vietnamese girl who lived with us was in a wheelchair, only saw shadows, and could not communicate verbally. However, on her 21st birthday my mother sent her to her day-program in a stretch limousine, knowing full well that she never understood or saw the trip. It was just the way my mother was — she treated everybody like family. When the limo got to the school, they brought out all the students in her class, put them in the car and gave them rides around the parking lot. What an amazing day and the memory of it evokes the compassion, empathy and kindness that my mother taught me.

Everything began on April 3rd, 2020, my Grandfather’s 95th birthday. At the time, he lived with us in my mother and stepfather’s home. My daughter and I had moved in with them a number of years ago. My grandfather had Alzheimer’s and my mother did everything she could to be sure that her father would never have to go into a nursing home. She took excellent care of him. We all pitched in. For his birthday we had a small, intimate party. Just the household members in attendance and his other daughter, my Aunt Ruthann, who happened to live here in Florida as well. We had a great time. We laughed & ate & celebrated.

The next morning Aunt Ruthann wasn’t feeling well. She was having issues breathing and started having fevers. She was brought to the hospital and tested positive for the Coronavirus. The Health Department was notified, and we were contact traced. My mom and stepfather were sent for testing. My mother tested negative and my stepfather positive. He had to quarantine in their bedroom and my mother slept on the couch or her easy chair, where she slept most nights anyway. Soon, my aunt was put on a ventilator and on April 7th passed away. We were devastated. It had happened so fast. About the third week of April, my Mother started developing symptoms. Headaches, fever, and some shortness of breath. She asked to be retested for the virus. Again, she was negative.

Finally, one evening of that same week, on April 10th, her fever shot up over 104 degrees and the thermometer was still climbing. I decided that was it and I called EMS. My stepfather was still in quarantine in their bedroom. My grandfather was doing fine. We stayed distant from him as much as possible and when we did have to get close to bathe or help him get changed, dressed or eat, we wore masks and gloves. My daughter, who was eight at the time, had no symptoms and we stayed to our portion of the house as much as possible.

My stepfather was in tears when I told him I had to call EMS for Mom; he was so worried and knew that he couldn’t go with her because he was positive. They took Mom to the hospital and this time she tested positive for Covid. Of course, we panicked, having just lost her sister, Aunt Ruthann. It was so incredibly difficult that we could not go see her at the hospital. The next morning, I awoke feeling lousy, like I had the flu. My grandfather was also not feeling well so we decided that we’d go to the hospital together. They only kept me long enough to control my temperature and do tests, then sent me right home. I did try to see my mother, but they wouldn’t allow it. So, I had to leave the hospital without seeing my Mom.

So now, my aunt had passed, and now my stepfather, my mother and myself tested positive for the virus. My grandfather tested negative, which surprised all of us because he was diagnosed many years ago with Interstitial Lung Disease.

My grandfather never came back to our home. It was determined that he needed to go into a facility until we all tested negative and he was the only one left that did not have the virus. They decided not to test my daughter as they knew she would not tolerate it well.

Every day was different for my mother. One day she was doing better, the next, not so good. One step forward, two steps back. We got to see her a few times via FaceTime, but it wasn’t the same as being able to go to the hospital and be with her. This was heartbreaking.

I called my sister in Maine and asked her to advocate for Mom as I was home quarantined. She called the hospital often and spoke to the nurses and doctors. Mom was on oxygen and then ultimately was put on the ventilator. My sister would update the entire family via Facebook and phone calls regarding Mom’s progress. We were begging everyone we knew in person and on Facebook to “Pray as hard as you have ever Prayed.” But, no matter how hard we prayed, she got worse.

Before she was put on the ventilator, I spoke to my Mom via FaceTime. I cried my heart out. I was so afraid, especially after losing her sister the same way. She kept saying, “it’s alright, I will be fine.” Well, she wasn’t fine. She couldn’t breathe and the medicines they gave her either didn’t help or seemed to make her worse. My sister was on a video call with her just as they were about to put the ventilator in. She told her she loved her and that she would see her soon.

On April 24th, early in the day, the doctor called and said that my mother had taken a turn for the worse and that my stepfather should get to the hospital as soon as possible. When he got there, they refused to let him in and so he came home, where at 8:30pm we received another call. Mom’s heart had given out and we lost her. I couldn’t believe it! I was in shock. NO!! This can’t be! It’s a mistake. I was in such disbelief.

My mom and aunt both died at the hospital all alone. We were never allowed to visit. To add salt to the already gaping wounds, we were told that we could NOT have a regular funeral for Mom. Only 4 people would be allowed to attend. I was still positive, my grandfather was now in a nursing home, and my stepfather would have been the only one able to go. After much deliberations, we decided to have Mom cremated.
Once my Grandfather was out of quarantine, (which the nursing home insisted on upon his arrival), his last remaining daughter, took him home to Massachusetts where he was surrounded by the rest of the family when he finally passed away in June.

At least he did not die alone. But, my mom, aka Grams A Lot, Crazy Margaret, and Head Toasty Woasty did. My mom, who devoted her life to caring for others so they weren’t alone; people like Yo-Yo, Phuong, & Ralphie-boy — just to name a few. I believe our dad lived for as long as he did, because Mom wouldn’t take No for an answer and always made sure the doctors knew who was really in charge.

She spent her last 15 years loving and caring for her husband Larry. She would tirelessly keep house, and invite guests for card games and her signature dishes, like eggplant parm and pasta fagioli … but no custard pie.

We miss her smile, her laugh, her sense of humor, her delicious cookies, and just talking. She would always have the right words to say but we struggle with how to grieve her death. How could we mourn when we couldn’t gather? We wanted to play her favorite songs ‘Baby Got Back’ and ‘We Are Family’ and display photos of her big and full life. Social distancing, while an important step to slowing the spread of the virus, has deepened the pain of what my family and I have lost. This loneliness the Covid-bereaved has experienced is profound. We needed to sing together.

So, to end, here’s a bit of the song, (hum with me) her favorite: Everybody can see we’re together/As we walk on by/And we fly just like birds of a feather/I won’t tell no lie.

He was only 25.
Healthy, workaholic.
He loved to sing, dance, travel.
Keith had Asperger’s.
He didn’t let it define him.
1 month in the ICU.
Ventilator, ECMO and a trail of destruction.
Covid took my son’s life.
He really did squish a ton of memories into almost 26 years.
He wasn’t just a covid statistic. He IS my son.
He is missed.
His 5 siblings left without a brother and the world robbed of such a vibrant soul.

I miss when my dad’s eyes meet mine in a moment when we are both thinking the same thing. Then we laugh out loud.