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 Born to Write
 
 
 
 

Grief in the Time of Covid-19

Like most everyone else, my life has been upended by the Covid-19 virus. My mother died March 25 from pneumonia, possibly (I think now). She was 94 years old.

 

Because of precautions, we were not able to be with her during the last days of her life or when she passed away. We did not have a service for her – yet – because it wasn't safe for us to travel to the cemetery, located in Queens, N.Y. In the meantime, her ashes are in an urn at my sister's house.


I have found some solace in the knowledge that my mother was not alone when she passed away. A devoted nurse, who knew and loved her, was with her. It's not the same as having family with her, but I'll take it.


I'm grateful, also, that I had a wonderful visit with my mom not long before she died.


Numerous "Zoom" get-togethers with my three older siblings and their spouses have provided great comfort. On Mother's Day, we shared photos of her and told stories, again, all by Zoom. 

 

Most importantly, I'm grateful that my mother lived a very happy, productive and satisfying life. She was an unusual person, ahead of her time, a female mathematician in an era when that was rare. She was an interesting and fiercely-loving mother. And, although her body was frail, her mind was 100 percent until the end.


I know that everyone is struggling with the pandemic and now, the economic fall-out. Please stay safe.