Dealing with death, grieving in isolation during the pandemic
The keys to coping and overcoming grief from afar
Text: Christian Barker
Michael is a Singaporean studying medicine at university in Sydney. During the early stages of Singapore’s lockdown in April, his father suffered a heart attack and was rushed to hospital. Doctors did their best, but sadly, Michael’s dad could not be revived.
“I really wanted to fly home to Singapore and on compassionate grounds, it was potentially possible to do so. But I wouldn’t have been able to re-enter Australia. Its borders were closed and I would’ve had to delay my education indefinitely,” Michael says.
“Dad always told me, ‘Whatever you do, no matter what happens, finish this degree.’ I had to honour that wish. So reluctantly, I made the decision to stay in Sydney, giving up the chance to attend his funeral and say goodbye.”
As long as the Covid-19 crisis persists and travel restrictions stay in place, many will find themselves in the same heartbreaking situation Michael faced — denied the opportunity to farewell someone they love. Instead, they’ll have to work through the pain remotely, without the consolation of memorial rituals and family support, which traditionally serve as a source of comfort and healing as we mourn.
All in it together
To date, 1.27 million people have died of the novel coronavirus, leaving behind millions of bereft family members, friends and partners. Making the pain that much more acute, those who’ve fallen victim to Covid-19 usually breathe their last in strict isolation, unable to spend their final hours among their nearest and dearest. It’s devastating for all concerned.
Nothing compares to the bereavement that results from the death of someone we love — especially when we’re prevented from properly wishing that person farewell. That said, during this crisis, we’ve all experienced grief to one degree or another.
We’ve lost certain freedoms and our sense of routine. We’ve lost our personal contact, our opportunities for everyday physical affection. Perhaps we’ve lost our job or suffered diminished income and starkly reduced living standards, an uncertain future. We’ve experienced loneliness, hopelessness and despair.
“On top of all that, in the midst of that grief, can you fathom what it would be like to lose someone you love? Just imagine,” says Jennifer Chan, a professional counselor with Singapore-based psychological consultancy, Mind What Matters.
Jennifer says, in her view, there is one silver lining to the fact we’re all feeling anguish right now. “For many of the people I’ve counseled who’ve lost a loved-one, grief can be a very lonely process. It’s easy for them to think no one else would understand what they’re going through.” At the present time, however, Jennifer feels that because everyone’s experiencing some form of grief, “we can better connect, understand and empathise.”
Sharing the pain
Sharing sorrow with others is an essential part of the grieving process. But in normal circumstances, people are often anxious witnessing grief, Jennifer says. “It's uncomfortable, because it reminds us that we're all dying, because death is inevitable. It is quite natural to want to avoid talking about it.”
For example, an expat in Hong Kong who has lost a parent in the UK may struggle to find a sympathetic ear within their casual social circle — most likely, a group of people hoping against hope that the same thing won’t happen to them.
It’s easier to talk openly about loss with others who are also hurting from the same wound. That’s what makes wakes and funerals so powerful and healing. If a bereaved person can somehow participate in those rituals and engage in conversation and the sharing of memories with fellow mourners, even via FaceTime or Zoom, they’ll benefit greatly.
If that’s impossible for whatever reason, they must find an alternate way to release their pain. The religious might turn to their spiritual leader. Others could seek out professional counseling or support groups. There are numerous phone support lines or online networks the grief-stricken can contact. The important thing is to let it out and share your feelings with someone.
“Grief is emotion that needs to be expressed,” says Dr. Glenn Graves of Singapore psychology practice Counseling Perspective, “if not, it just stays trapped in the body.” Glenn says if it is not properly processed and expressed, grief can remain welled up within you and return, raw as ever, decades later, “unless a person finds a way to release it through a process like counseling or through a ritual of some sort.”
An example that combines both those remedies, he says when a client hasn’t had the chance to say goodbye to a loved one, he will often conduct an exercise where the person pictures the individual they’ve lost sitting in an empty chair in the office and speaks directly to them, saying whatever they need to get off their chest. “It’s powerful, they really feel it. They talk to the deceased person. They say what they want to say.”
Subsequently, Glenn asks the client to switch roles. “I have them sit in that chair and speak back, say what they want to hear in reply from their loved-one — whether that’s thank you, I love you, I forgive you, all those things,” he explains. “It’s incredibly powerful, it definitely releases that emotion. It kind of solves unsolved mysteries for them and puts things to rest.”
There’s still no substitute for being at the bedside, holding someone’s hand and looking in their eyes as they pass on, says Glenn, or for physically participating in their wake or funeral. “That process of closure, of saying goodbye, those moments of exchange are really a critical part of the process for people. To be denied that, it’s tragic, an existential dilemma,” he says.
Carpe diem
For months after their father’s passing, Michael phoned his sister in Singapore and comforted her for an hour each day. Yet he himself struggled to come to terms with his dad’s death. He feels that missing the funeral deprived him of a sense of closure. He’s trying to find it in his own way. As a sort of ritual tribute to his dad, who was an avid sportsman, Michael is training to swim the English Channel.
Jennifer advises clients to process their grief and remember their loved-one through meaningful acts such as this (though one needn’t go to the extreme physical lengths that Michael is). She suggests quietly visiting a place that was significant to you and the deceased, or writing down thoughts and memories, making a work of art, or something more contemporary.
“With today’s technology, there’s so much we can do — videos, music, graphics, animation, creating a website or social media page, the list goes on.” She says this memorial needn’t be made public. “But it’s important that someone you trust witnesses what you’ve put together, that somebody else reads or sees or experiences that tribute,” Jennifer believes, so that the grieving process can be shared.
Rather than deal with the pain of things left unsaid after the fact, Glenn says if we’re in the position to do so, we should clear the air and open lines of communication today, while it’s still possible. “My own father is 88, he's probably going to pass this year. I’ve had a couple of years knowing time is short,” he explains. “Each time I’m home I hug him, knowing it may be the last time.”
Recently, he has made a point of sending his father “a lot of really important letters or messages that are of a final nature, expressing what he means to me.” As a result, Glenn says, “I feel like I’m in a really healthy position, getting slowly ready to accept the reality of him being gone and just celebrating his life.”
According to Glenn, people who’ve been through this sort of process — who’ve said what they need to say and heard what they need to hear — are much better equipped and prepared to move on when they do lose someone they love. If there’s one thing this crisis has taught us, it’s that we can’t take anything or anyone for granted. Seize the day. Nobody lives forever.
