CW: COVID-19 related grief.
Tonight is Passover night, and I am writing instead of celebrating. Passover is a major Jewish holiday and the only one I usually go to the lengthy effort of celebrating with my little family (and/or chosen family). We usually get together, cook, eat, drink red wine, tell the Haggadah story, laugh. Sometimes we cry. Always we connect.
Image: a large group of people sitting around a table looking at the camera, smiling. most are holding a drink and raising their glasses. the table has crockery and drink bottles on a white table cloth.
It is a very special time of the year for me. It holds sweet memories of favorite foods cooked by my grandmothers and games played with my grandfather. This year however, I am not celebrating in the way I’d like to with my toddler. We are in the midst of a global pandemic and many of us are grieving, feeling distressed, displaced or simply worried. I am experiencing a bit of all of those feelings.
My family and I have decided to move and live with my parents in law, until the end of this crisis. The preparations for Passover have simply gone out the window amid emotional and practical demands. We were invited to celebrate with one of my best friend’s family. I am devastated this is impossible, and am missing them immensely. Grief takes hold of me, for the loss my toddler isn’t even aware they are experiencing today – of celebrating meaningful traditions and bonding with loved ones.
Amongst everything I did not have the capacity to make Passover happen. It feels like a failure when reflecting on the only holiday I’ve ever wanted to continue celebrating with my child. Then I remind myself to be kind and gentle with myself and others during this time. I hear a voice saying it’s ok, and this is temporary – there will be other times. But this crisis reminds me of how fragile those future opportunities are and the need to treasure the present. I battle.
I told my child it is Passover night and explained that we will celebrate another time. We read some of the Haggadah. Actually we just looked at the pictures. I wondered again if I should have gone to the supermarket to get a few essentials and organize something. I almost apologized, but instead decided to accept my reactions to our current situation. Being the only one in the family with my cultural background means the responsibility is on me – to decide, shop, construct menus, delegate tasks, cook complex traditional dishes, decide on dress code, set the table properly. In the last few weeks I have moved houses, adjusted to working from home routines, took my son out of day care and ceased essential self-care activities due to social distancing rules. Details such as how many boiled eggs should we have, which entrées shall we make, or can we Zoom everyone in an opposite timezone – simply did not make the cut.
Being kind to myself means acceptance of what I do and don’t do, where I am and what I feel. Today I need to process what is happening, grieve, cry over what I want for my child and our community, alongside delight in what we are managing. This is not the time for life projects, not yet anyway. My experience taught me – crisis is a time for breathing, reframing, connecting and daily re-learning how to live on this rollercoaster. No doubt innovation and new treatments may develop during this time. But right now, all I aim for is to live past this, to come out the other end with sanity, love and good health.
I am sending hugs and love to everyone who is grieving the loss of lives or the life they’ve had or wished for. May this period be short and may we be able to connect with others and ourselves. May we be kind to ourselves and all humans, none left unaffected by the current world hurricane.
Until next time,
L. K. Bridgford
Image: A Passover plate with traditional foods laid in each section- celery, lettuce, egg, chicken, haroset, mustard.