The Lingering Losses of the Pandemic
It feels a little strange to write about loss and grief when compared to so many I haven’t lost much at all. I’m not a healthcare worker or any kind of important person in the chain of needed services. I’m a writer for goodness sakes, one who moonlights with a side hustle of social media managing and PR for small businesses and nonprofits. I’m also well aware that as a white woman I have gotten a big pass. But that said, my life isn’t the same as it was, and I’ve been struggling with that.
Yesterday I walked into a local coffee shop that I now only visit outside. I wanted to buy a friend a cup of tea and bring it to her shop. I’ve been inside a few times in the last 18 months, but I never linger, wear a mask, and leave as quickly as purchasing my beverage takes. As I stood in line, I took those moments to really look around. Most of the tables were gone, a handful of people sat at the remaining few, and except those sipping their coffee, the staff and patrons were all masked.
I got my friend’s tea, went back to my car, and promptly burst into tears. Many times a week I used to bring my laptop to that coffee shop and work. Like many self-employed folks, I loved having a place outside my home to go and work. I loved the hum of life going on. The overheard conversations, the awkward first online dates I witnessed and lives being shared over a latte and a muffin. As I sat in my car, hoping no one was seeing me falling apart, I thought, this is grief. And then I immediately felt guilty. Grief? Who are you to feel grief over not being able to sit and write at a coffee shop? Boohoo. There are people who have real reasons to be grieving, not you!
But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I think I am far from alone. Life isn’t the same as it was pre-Covid for lots of us. Someone said to me recently that she felt her life wasn’t much different and I envied her because mine in so many ways feels very different.
There are of course the obvious differences — I haven’t been to a movie theater since early March 2020, nor an inside play. I don’t hug people, not in my close circle, I wear a mask whenever I’m inside a business, and a day doesn’t go by that I am not aware of the specter of serious illness.
I am eternally grateful that I have not weathered this year and a half alone, and am lucky enough to have a wonderful partner. But one other person does not a full and engaged life make. As a somewhat introverted writer-type prior to the pandemic, I spent a decent amount of time alone, but it was always balanced with collegial time with friends and loved ones.
When I arrived at my tea’s destination, a lovely bridal shop for which I provide social media services, I walked in, masked, of course, and found my colleague helping a bride-to-be and her mom look through the beautiful racks of vintage and new dresses. I put the tea on the counter and began talking to the pair who had come all the way to Cape Cod from Philidelphia just to come to this shop. They were completely delightful. As the young woman tried on dresses, while wearing a colorful mask, I found myself feeling happy and delighted myself. This was a contagion I welcomed! The bride told me it was fine to take photos and post them, and we were all having so much fun.
It felt like…before. It felt normal, save the fact that we were all wearing masks, and I felt happy, a feeling that lingered long after I left the shop.
So since my Earl Grey tea meltdown, I’ve been thinking a lot about loss and grief. And I realize it isn’t a contest, there’s no, “my grief is bigger than yours so yours doesn’t matter,” scale. We feel what we feel.
Now that I do yoga on Zoom, record my radio show similarly, have not returned to a gym since 2020, the reality is that my life IS more isolated, and that is a loss. I also lost work when businesses slowed down or even closed. And it’s okay to feel sad, anxious, depressed, or whatever you feel about that.
So my life does in fact look quite different than it did before March 2020, and perhaps yours does too. Maybe also like me, you’ve been very lucky and not lost anyone close to you, been subjected to systemic racism, become unhoused or had Covid-19 yourself. I am extremely grateful for those things and know just how privileged I am in so many ways. But I also know that this has been hard, really hard, and I’m finally allowing myself to say that.
