It's been one year since my grandmother—who helped raise me—died in an isolated nursing facility under COVID-19 lockdown. From outside the nursing home window, I watched her deteriorate in quarantine.
Isolation kills too.
miacat.medium.com/isolation-kill…
Isolation kills too.
miacat.medium.com/isolation-kill…
We were forced to limit the number of family members allowed at the Mass service. If the funeral had occurred just one week later, when Allegheny County moved to the “Yellow Phase,” then Pennsylvania Gov. Tom Wolf would have allowed 25 of us. The priest was included in the count.
From the warm of our cars, we watched what felt like football-fields-away as my grandmother was lowered into the barren vault. We were told to stay away for the safety of the gravediggers.
The handful of us surrounding her casket six-feet-apart were outsized and outshouted by the roaring masses that rioted unchecked across the nation.
We, like many, watched our beloved die behind closed doors. Her life mattered, too.
We, like many, watched our beloved die behind closed doors. Her life mattered, too.
America’s elders have suffered cruel deaths because of state leaders who’ve barred families from visiting dying loved ones.
It’s salt in the wounds, thanks to hypocritical elites who’ve supported the riots and dined inside Michelin-starred restaurants during the lockdowns.
It’s salt in the wounds, thanks to hypocritical elites who’ve supported the riots and dined inside Michelin-starred restaurants during the lockdowns.
Pennsylvania’s top health official Rachel Levine, now Biden’s assistant health secretary, was able to remove her own 95-year-old mother from an unnamed personal care home that same month when state leadership ordered our family apart.
pennlive.com/news/2020/05/h…
pennlive.com/news/2020/05/h…
We, law-abiding citizens, were told to stay home and remain compliant while the lawless uprisings devastated communities.
And now we’re supposed to shed crocodile tears for canonized criminals and memory hole the real-life trauma we've endured over the past year.
And now we’re supposed to shed crocodile tears for canonized criminals and memory hole the real-life trauma we've endured over the past year.
I sat in the same spot every day where I ate meals, attended Zoom classes, and was informed of my grandmother’s death over the phone in real-time. I watched the clock tick by, wondering how many hours, days, months it’s been since she was pronounced dead.
It’s been one year.
It’s been one year.
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