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.