Where is our humanity

My sister died during the holidays.

Take a moment to let this news sit with you. Notice what happens for you. What are your thoughts? What are you feeling? How is your body responding to this news?

From my recent experience, the sentence conveys and creates thoughts of loss, feelings of grief, sentimental imagery and a shared heaviness. For a moment, the connected energy of love is shared, although shrouded with sadness. In an instant, the burden of my loss feels lighter with your support. In that moment, I remember my sister with love.

Read the next statement and honestly notice what happens for you.

My sister died during the holidays with Covid.

Take a moment to let the news sit with you. Notice what happens for you. What are your thoughts? What are you feeling? How is your body responding to this news?

From my experience, the sentence conveys and creates similar thoughts of loss, feelings of grief, sentimental imagery and a shared heaviness, and an immediate addition of emotions of fear and anger. Opinions of right and wrong arise quickly and a fierce armor of self-protection appears.

In that moment, this reactionary response breaks the connection of support and love. The shared grief instead becomes a heavier burden to carry in the passing of a loved one, in this case, my sister.

When I heard the news that my sister went into ICU on Christmas morning, I started to grieve. I grieved for my sister, and for every person who has contracted Covid. I grieved for my sister’s family, her daughter who stood alone outside the hospital, her granddaughter who will be forever shaped by this pandemic, her siblings who didn’t get to say, “Happy New Year”, and myself, who had lost time with my sister, the sister I pulled away from due to politics, opinions and the pandemic.

I grieve for every human on our shared planet that came before us and died with Covid. I grieve for every human who was separated from their home, their family, their comforts, their life. I grieve for every human who has an empty seat at their holiday table.

I grieve and my tears flow from the two years of a global pandemic, flooding and breaking the damn that we all have collectively built.

“My sister died during the holidays with Covid.”

When I consider sharing the news and the loss of my sister, I hold the information and assess for safety. Will this person understand my loss? Will this person be able to stay with my grief? Will this person need to have their fear informed? Will our grief be shared or will my sister’s death be another data point on the pandemic chart?

The way I feel the distinction is by the immediate response of “Was she vaccinated?”

The first time I was asked the question “Was she vaccinated,” I was frozen with sadness for my sister.“ Is that all this person wants to know? Did she not want to know about my sister’s life instead only how she died?

The second time I was asked the question “Was she vaccinated”, I was awakened with my anger. “Is that all this person wants to know? Did he not want to know about my sister’s life instead only how she died?

The third time I was asked the question “Was she vaccinated”, I was broken with my hopelessness. I asked my own question of, “Where is our humanity?”

As a gentle reminder, humanity is defined as ‘a state of being kind.’

As I have shared this story with others, a defensive posture comes up and some will say to me, “Well, the response to ask if they are vaccinated is understandable.”

I am not arguing that it is understandable, I am advocating that the question “Was she vaccinated?” is an unhelpful, unkind and an unskillful question. Perhaps you won’t understand, until you are stand outside a hospital on a sidewalk watching your love one struggle to breathe.

“Was she vaccinated?” is for you, your own fear.

“Was she vaccinated?” is not the way anyone wants to be remembered, including my sister.

“Was she vaccinated?” is hurtful.  

The question is designed to gather data, build fences, and strengthen the walls that have separated us and our collective humanity.

Perhaps instead of asking “Was she vaccinated?” you could take a moment of silence, say something kind, “I am sorry for your loss,” “How would you like me to remember your sister?” “I can only imagine how difficult this is for your family,” or “I have no words.”

You may still want to know the answer to the question, “Was she vaccinated?”

I know the answer to this question, and my heart knows better than to answer and instead to gently remind you, my sister died during the holidays and I am grieving for us all.