millions of lives lost, health concerns, political
and social unrest, the ways so many people
around us and among us suffered physically,
emotionally, economically, and spiritually.
Though the pandemic is a collective trauma,
individual experiences vary. We each had our
own individual losses – big and small. For me,
the biggest loss was the loss of life. I lost a dear
friend. I missed the opportunity to visit him
in the hospital. I did not have a chance to say
goodbye. The funeral could only be attended
via Zoom. Finding out that family members
and friends tested positive for the virus or fell
ill generated anxiety. Health concerns were
difficult to deal with. There were numerous
smaller losses: the cancelled flight to visit our
granddaughter, the inability to hug children
and grandchildren – or even just see them not
via a screen, the cancelled college graduation
ceremony of a grandson, the impossibility to celebrate
holidays or other meaningful occasions
with loved ones, the difficulty to go anywhere
without worrying about possible consequences.
There were also vicarious losses, experienced
second hand. For example, hurting for our two
youngest grandsons who have not attended
school in person for over a year now and can
only meet their friends screen-to-screen. How
will their young minds be affected by all they
have had to cope with?
Disenfranchised grief (the term was coined
by bereavement expert Kenneth Doka), also
known as hidden grief, describes any grief that
goes unacknowledged or unvalidated, which
makes it particularly hard to process and work
through. It refers to grief that is often minimized,
grief over seemingly small losses that may be
considered “less significant,” like lost time with
family and friends, canceled travel plans, missed
milestone events, etc. We need to give ourselves
permission to grieve for big, but also for ostensibly
small, losses. It is important not to rank
our losses as bigger or smaller than another
person’s. In addition, we need to make room
for seemingly contradictory feelings: grief and
gratitude, sorrow and pleasure. They may exist
concurrently and do not cancel each other out.
Reviewing the first pandemic-driven year
prompts awareness not only of losses but
also of gains: an appreciation of our capacity
for resilience when faced with unprecedented
challenges. The pandemic taught us to
compromise and improvise. Be patient and
persevere. Find ways to overcome pandemic
fatigue. Discern what is essential and what can
be done without. Discover ourselves in more
depth: delve inward as so much of the outside
world became restricted. We also found new
ways to help each other. The pandemic reinforced
our interdependence, accentuated our
common bonds.
Post Traumatic Growth is positive psychological
change experienced as a result of struggles
with highly challenging life circumstances. The
theory of Post Traumatic Growth postulates
that people can emerge from trauma stronger,
having achieved positive personal growth. A
recent study in England, published in the British
Journal of Psychiatry (Stallard, P. et al.), reports
that despite considerable adversity, participants
experienced positive effects while attempting to
cope with the pandemic. The positive effects
were derived from leading lives in quieter, slower
ways due to lockdowns. Study participants
reported growth in family relationships, greater
appreciation for life, re-assessment of personal
values and priorities, increased appreciation
and gratitude for the simpler things in life,
less consumerism and reliance on material
things, and adoption of a healthier lifestyle. In
addition, they reported greater appreciation
of others, stronger sense of community, and
spiritual growth. Post Traumatic Growth does
not minimize the severity of what happened. It
is also important to note that the transformation
does not occur as a direct result of a trauma,
but rather as a result of the ways a trauma is
processed and managed.
At this point in time, vaccines are becoming
more widely available, and we have reasons
to believe that better times are not too far off.
Personally, since we have been vaccinated, we
marked the one-year pandemic anniversary by
extending our bubble to include family members
and friends who have also been vaccinated:
We met family members (small groups) for
much-anticipated reunions. We met in our
apartment with a couple of (vaccinated) friends
to toast the return to semi-normalcy. We also
had a celebratory dinner at the apartment of our
(vaccinated) friends/neighbors whom, though
they live just one floor above us, and though
we speak practically daily, we haven’t seen faceto
face in months.
In March 2020, Kitty O’Meara, a retired
teacher and hospital chaplain from Wisconsin,
penned a prose poem titled “In the Time of
Pandemic.” The uplifting prose poem, which
went viral, was translated into languages across
the world, was put to music, was recited as a
prayer, and was published as a picture book
for readers of all ages. O’Meara is now called
by some “the poet laureate of the pandemic.”
O’Meara’s meditative reflections, which sound
like a fairy tale, look back on life in quarantine
and dare to envision a happy ending. Her words
encourage us to look inward, listen deeply, meet
our shadows, and create new ways that promote
healing. The brief, unassuming poem offers a
silver-lining perspective – a hope that we will
emerge from this plague having achieved some
positive outcomes, that we will join together
to restore wholeness, that tomorrow will be
brighter.
In his book, The Plague, Albert Camus
concluded that “All a man could win in the
conflict between plague and life was knowledge
and memory.” May we remember what
we have learned from this pandemic and, when
COVID-19 recedes to non-pandemic levels and
we finally get a chance to fully venture out into
the world, may we move onward wiser and
more aware.
I am writing these reflections in the midst of
the spring season. The first pandemic winter
relented, coldness gave way to warmth, the days
are getting longer, and the allure of the outdoors
is enticing once again. Better days are returning,
and I find it easier to hold on to optimism
during the alluring spring season. My wish for
the coming months is penned beautifully by one
of my favorite poets, Pablo Neruda:
“We need to sit on the rim
Of the well of darkness
and fish for fallen light
With patience.”
Darkness and light are intertwined. They exist
side-by-side, often coinciding, one illuminating
the other. No, this pandemic isn’t fully over. The
virus is smart and does whatever it can to remain
among us. At times, we may still find ourselves
teetering on the edge, on the rim of darkness.
But darkness has a way of reminding us of the
light and, even when hard to see, light awaits. As
we enter the second year of the pandemic, and
as progress combating the coronavirus intensifies
spring fever, may we muster the inspiration
and fortitude to pursue the light with intention,
patience, and anticipation.
“In the Time
of Pandemic”
BY KITTY O’MEARA
And the people stayed home.
And they read books, and listened,
and rested, and exercised, and made art,
and played games, and learned new ways
of being,
and were still.
And they listened more deeply.
Some meditated, some prayed, some
danced.
Some met their shadows.
And the people began to think differently.
And the people healed.
And, in the absence of people living in
ignorant,
dangerous, mindless, and heartless ways,
the earth began to heal.
And when the danger passed,
and the people joined together again,
they grieved their losses, and made new
choices,
and dreamed new images, and created
new ways
to live and heal the earth fully,
as they had been healed.”
May 2021 ¢ NORTH SHORE TOWERS COURIER 17