Pandemic Motherhood Diary: Entry 19
It was March 15, and the year was 2020. We had taken our three-month-old to the church I grew up in just to visit the lady I considered my “play grandmother.” I wanted her to meet our first son. He was the child that I asked her to pray that we’d be able to conceive. He was the child that we rushed to tell her in person that we were expecting. She greeted us, acknowledged our matching striped outfits, and smiled at our chubby-cheeked baby boy. She told us she loved us and gave us the best group hug. That was the last time we saw her. She passed away on April 16.
The official lockdown happened immediately following that visit. The level of uncertainty and fear kept us from going to gatherings for a long time. Although we have gradually eased our way back into the world, we never returned to my childhood church. I always felt a responsibility to her and her safety. I never felt comfortable trying to negotiate how to safely see her while COVID-19 and many variants followed that threatened the lives of so many, especially the most vulnerable. She was a much older person. Between that fact and my second pregnancy, I never knew when was the right time to see her again. In retrospect, I feel immense sadness for what feels like a complete robbery by the pandemic. The theft is time with someone I’ve loved since I was ten that I will never get back.
When we started visiting loved ones, we talked about seeing my play grandmother. We wanted to find a way to carefully see family and friends we hadn’t seen in a long time. I had planned to return to the church just so she could meet our second son and see how much our oldest had grown. We would regularly exchange “I miss you” texts, and I would always promise to see her sooner than later. Still, I hadn’t quite figured out how to do that. Would I be putting her at risk? I would ask myself this every time I considered setting a date. Still, I missed her and wanted to see her. Foolishly enough, I thought I had time.
Throughout the pandemic, we managed to stay in contact by phone. I could always expect a bible verse and a message every Sunday from her. She regularly checked in on how my husband and I were doing. I would send her pictures of the boys, and I loved sharing our good news. The last big news I sent her was my acceptance into graduate school. That was the beginning of last December. December was also the last special Sunday message I received from her. She went silent and wasn’t present at church anymore. I knew something was wrong. After months of no response, I finally received an update. It was the one that I dreaded hearing. I have no clarity about how she passed or specifics about her ailment, if any. I don’t know if it was COVID-19. What I do know is these pandemic years have been challenging. However, being able to talk to her made things better. Although I couldn’t see her like I preferred, she was still light during such a dark time. In October 2021, I spent my birthday pregnant and relaxing with my husband and son. She surprisingly called me just to sing to me. In that moment, her voice felt like a warm hug. It was one of the best birthday gifts I’ve ever received. That’s just one of the many examples of what I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing for years. It’s hard to sit with feeling like I missed an opportunity to see her again. It’s worse to feel like the reality of the pandemic contributed to such heartbreak.
Melissa Menny is an author with a Bachelor of Arts degree in Journalism. She is a poet and a writer in all aspects. When she is not working, she enjoys painting, music, and spending time with her husband and two sons.