So many things canceled, rearranged, or postponed due to this omnipresent pandemic. And while we’ve been forced to at least tolerate incessant openings, closings and the inability to see friends and loved ones, something else dawned on me which has become magnified over the last 10-months.
Many of us never really got to say goodbye to friends now gone. Sure, we’ve sent condolence notes to family members, made contributions, written sincere blurbs for memory books, but we never really got to say goodbye and feel that sense of closure. We never got to hug a family member and say how much their loved one meant to us, how much we enjoyed his or her friendship, how sorry we are for their loss.
We never got to reminisce (Zoom won’t work in these circumstances), laugh, cry, share treasured anecdotes with family and friends, never got to break bread and just be there for people during their grieving times. I empathize with those who’ve lost loved ones due to COVID-19; many never got to say goodbye as medical facilities simply can’t let family members come into facilities to pay final respects.
Someday, there might be a nice tribute ceremony, a celebration of life, and that will surely help to ease the pain; but it will feel a bit too long in coming. Maybe time having passed will allow these events to be a bit less emotional, but being able to show and feel emotion is essential to humans, and that’s yet one more item this novel coronavirus has stolen from us.
So, I’m sorry Jack, Gregg, Paul, Jerry, and others who’ve left us far too soon. Sorry I couldn’t laugh with you or talk story about the fun we had along the way. Sorry I couldn’t tell your families, in person, just how nice it was having you as a buddy. I hope to do that later, perhaps by the end of 2021. In the meantime, listening to the song “Gone Too Soon” by Creed’s Scott Stapp sometimes helps me to put it into perspective.
I’m glad your loved ones got to hear or read notes from so many who sincerely cared. But I miss not having had the chance to be there near the end, or soon after you were gone, to participate in the group healing process in person. So, I’ll smile at memories, and wait.
Think about it…