Quarantine: Stages of Grief

Photo Cred: Jt Corrales irb

The first few days of lock-down were the hardest, by far. Each morning I would wake up with a twinkle in my eye, ready to take on the day… until reality came crashing in, and like anvil on my chest, I would remember there was nowhere to go, and nothing to do.

Those early morning milliseconds of freedom were priceless though.

As time has passed, I have clearly seen the stages of grief flow though most of my Facebook feed. Once vibrant and positive friends have become quiet. The funny Tik Tok dances have slowed. The families who were new to homeschooling seemed creative and at first, but lately I think they have turned to day-drinking, instead.

The human mind is a fascinating, and predictable, thing.

Many friends have reached out saying how happy they are to spend quality time with family, and take this much needed retreat. While I feel that I’ve made my son the focus of my life, I have to agree that this break has been eye opening in many ways.

We enjoy an evening bike ride, or sunset walk… like we used to before the craziness of his career took hold. Momentary glimpses of normal living are replaced by subtle reminders of the quarantine everywhere you go. Like a slow motion scene in a movie, walking past the caution tape surrounding the playground is a stark reminder that these are historic times.

I miss my husband. He is living a few towns away to protect my mom from this virus. Yesterday he brought me some groceries, and we kissed though the glass door.

Things we all took for granted before, like finding a can of Lysol on a store shelf, suddenly bring a sense of accomplishment. I keep thinking of my moms uncles who lived though the Great Depression; they hoarded some of the strangest things. From this moment on, I am pretty sure I’m going to hoard all kinds of disinfectant.

I lived in New York City for Sept 11; it changed me forever. I am hoping that this experience changes humanity forever, too. I’m hoping that people have learned the importance of the simple things.

I think the stages of grief, for most, have moved on to acceptance.

The acceptance stage is where miracles happen.

Our brains have worked though the denial, the anger, the depression… bargaining. And now, society can begin again with a new psychology. We are strong enough to start helping others because we are no longer in survival mode.

I’ve seen a movement of women making homemade masks. Each day they figure out some nuance, like the straps on the ears begin to hurt after awhile, so a simple button on a headband is an easy fix.

Like Mr. Rogers said, “Look for the helpers.”

During Sept 11, those moments that made me tear-up with pride and love were whet I remember most. The lessons I took from my experience of living through that, are what I’ve been waiting to see with this pandemic, and I think we are on the cusp of seeing a monumental shift in humanity… just wait.

As we all watched Italy go from horror and fear, to singing on balconies, the west will come up with their own ways shine. And, as a New Yorker… I am again feeling so proud to watch my city step-up and rise to the occasion. Living in Florida though, does not have that same sense of community. I very much feel alone here, like I always have. Alone in the sense of not belonging.

My soul is craving that unity that only New York can give me.