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.