Yesterday the front page of the New York Times listed the names of 1000 people who have died of COVID-19 and one sentence about each of them. They were only one percent of the 100,000 lives lost so far in the US, and there are no doubt tens of thousands more who have died as a result of this pandemic but who were never diagnosed.
Clara Louise Bennett, 91, Albany, GA, sang her grandchildren a song on the first day of school each year.
Valentina Blackhorse, 28, Kayenta, AZ, aspiring leader in the Navajo Nation.
Merrick Dowson, 67, San Francisco Bay Area, nothing delighted him more than picking up the bill.
Arthur Winthrop Barstow, 93, Hadley, MA, there is not a Louie L’Amour Western he had not read three times.
Ruth Skapinock, 85, Roseville, CA, backyard birds were known to eat from her hand.
I doubt it was coincidental that also yesterday morning, during my journaling time, I found myself weeping profusely. There is nothing happening in my own immediate life that would warrant such intense grief, and I don’t personally know anyone who has died from this pandemic. But the tears were nonetheless streaming down my cheeks, issuing forth from this reservoir of collective sorrow.Continue Reading