On April 4th, my mother-in-law passed away. She was a gentle and loving, supportive woman, not at all like the stereotype of a dreadful interfering mother-in-law that you see in films and commercials. She was living with dementia in a local nursing home, and as she declined, my husband and I would go try to peek in the windows to see her, as we were not allowed inside. Finally when they realized it was the end of life, they let us inside, and we spent the last 3 days sitting by her side, reading poems, singing, reading from the bible, weeping and holding her hand. So I am very grateful that we got to spend that time with her, and my heart goes out to the many folks whose loved ones are passing in hospitals, without the sound of a loved voice or the touch of a loved hand.
But then the other thing, the part that makes this covid diary worthy or weird, is that she did not pass away from covid 19. And I feel I have to say that to everyone I tell. “My mother-in-law passed away, but it was not from covid-19”, so they won’t think that she was infected, that I am infected, that we are under the shadow, this dreadful, all-powerful raptor that has spread out its vast dark wings above us all, our county, our state, our country, our world. It was just death. Like life and death. The mortality that infects us all.