Reading and Living in Corona Time
There are days when time seems stretched out. Their boundaries blur as the hours of one slip into the next. But later perhaps, those days seem to have gone by faster than one thought. I experienced time like that when going through labor and becoming adjusted to life with a newborn. I’ve also felt that when sitting up with a seriously ill family member or waiting in an airport for an indefinitely delayed flight.
Corona Time feels warped and stretchy to me too, but on a much larger scale. March seemed to last forever, but April lurched ahead and then stalled. May is galloping by. Maybe it just seems that way to me because I had a cold that I couldn’t shake for most of March. Maybe it’s because I knew in April that Covid was burrowing in worldwide and the stay-at-home orders would be needed beyond just a few weeks. I got busy thinking about how to adjust to the new normal and life without a job. It helped to see new leaves on the trees outside my windows and hear the migrating birds. But mainly I’ve been reading like mad: to research, to escape, or maybe simply to understand.
I’m coming to terms with the realization that I may never have the opportunity to work again at the same professional level or even in the same field that I had before. I may have to start all over at something new with a beginner’s compensation. I may not be able to find a job at all for a long time. I don’t feel consciously worried about it yet, but it could be that my increased reading fixation is a coping mechanism for submerged insecurities.
We still have a household income, so I’m grateful for that. (I try to begin and end each day listing the things that I’m grateful for, though I haven’t always been diligent about it.) So far, all my close family and friends are healthy. I do know people personally who have recovered from Covid-19, but they weren’t much sicker than if they had a cold.
But I also have friends who haven’t been so lucky. One lost her father, another lost her uncle, and a third lost her father-in-law. Their grief is compounded by knowing that their loved one suffered their final hours and days alone. Even a funeral to commemorate their lives and formally say goodbye was not possible.
We joked last year that 2020 was going to be the year for weddings because we had been invited to so many. One by one they’re being postponed, depending on the month scheduled and the latest death count in their state.
Reading has always inspired me to think of new ideas, to imagine new worlds, or to satisfy my curiosity about something. I hope that this will always be true. I hope that reading will also continue to offer a brief escape from the moment, as long as it remains brief. These moments of Corona Time need our attention.
I do know that the times that I feel most positive during the pandemic is when I can contribute to something good, no matter how minor. But I also know that our lives and our relationships are undergoing lasting changes along with our environmental and socio-economic conditions. Even if we manage to get this disease eradicated, it doesn’t mean there won’t be another.
While New York’s cases were increasing exponentially, the Times printed an article on those who had to say goodbye to dying loved ones from a distance. It quoted a specialist in palliative care who gave advice on what to say during a last conversation. I don’t remember all of it exactly, but it had essentially 5 key elements that she encouraged loved ones to include in this order:
1. Thank you
2. I’m sorry; please forgive me.
3. I forgive you.
4. I love you.
5. Good-bye
Obviously, those elements should be adjusted according to the context of the relationship and the circumstances. And as I learned years ago from being with my father during his latest days, it’s best to start out just listening if the dying person wants to speak first.
We’re in the process of a paradigm shift in our shared understanding of the world and our expectations for the future. To come to terms with that, we’ll need some awareness of the shift and some time to adjust. We need to find ways to say goodbye to some of our pre-pandemic expectations, hopes, and habits. I think for now, I’ll begin with those five conversation suggestions as I go through my own stages of grief: gratitude for what was, responsibility for what I did that might have caused harm, forgiveness of others who now regret their actions, a renewed commitment to love, and a letting go of what is ending. With any luck, and a lot of reading, that will allow me to join the work of the future.
Corona Time feels warped and stretchy to me too, but on a much larger scale. March seemed to last forever, but April lurched ahead and then stalled. May is galloping by. Maybe it just seems that way to me because I had a cold that I couldn’t shake for most of March. Maybe it’s because I knew in April that Covid was burrowing in worldwide and the stay-at-home orders would be needed beyond just a few weeks. I got busy thinking about how to adjust to the new normal and life without a job. It helped to see new leaves on the trees outside my windows and hear the migrating birds. But mainly I’ve been reading like mad: to research, to escape, or maybe simply to understand.
I’m coming to terms with the realization that I may never have the opportunity to work again at the same professional level or even in the same field that I had before. I may have to start all over at something new with a beginner’s compensation. I may not be able to find a job at all for a long time. I don’t feel consciously worried about it yet, but it could be that my increased reading fixation is a coping mechanism for submerged insecurities.
We still have a household income, so I’m grateful for that. (I try to begin and end each day listing the things that I’m grateful for, though I haven’t always been diligent about it.) So far, all my close family and friends are healthy. I do know people personally who have recovered from Covid-19, but they weren’t much sicker than if they had a cold.
But I also have friends who haven’t been so lucky. One lost her father, another lost her uncle, and a third lost her father-in-law. Their grief is compounded by knowing that their loved one suffered their final hours and days alone. Even a funeral to commemorate their lives and formally say goodbye was not possible.
We joked last year that 2020 was going to be the year for weddings because we had been invited to so many. One by one they’re being postponed, depending on the month scheduled and the latest death count in their state.
Reading has always inspired me to think of new ideas, to imagine new worlds, or to satisfy my curiosity about something. I hope that this will always be true. I hope that reading will also continue to offer a brief escape from the moment, as long as it remains brief. These moments of Corona Time need our attention.
I do know that the times that I feel most positive during the pandemic is when I can contribute to something good, no matter how minor. But I also know that our lives and our relationships are undergoing lasting changes along with our environmental and socio-economic conditions. Even if we manage to get this disease eradicated, it doesn’t mean there won’t be another.
While New York’s cases were increasing exponentially, the Times printed an article on those who had to say goodbye to dying loved ones from a distance. It quoted a specialist in palliative care who gave advice on what to say during a last conversation. I don’t remember all of it exactly, but it had essentially 5 key elements that she encouraged loved ones to include in this order:
1. Thank you
2. I’m sorry; please forgive me.
3. I forgive you.
4. I love you.
5. Good-bye
Obviously, those elements should be adjusted according to the context of the relationship and the circumstances. And as I learned years ago from being with my father during his latest days, it’s best to start out just listening if the dying person wants to speak first.
We’re in the process of a paradigm shift in our shared understanding of the world and our expectations for the future. To come to terms with that, we’ll need some awareness of the shift and some time to adjust. We need to find ways to say goodbye to some of our pre-pandemic expectations, hopes, and habits. I think for now, I’ll begin with those five conversation suggestions as I go through my own stages of grief: gratitude for what was, responsibility for what I did that might have caused harm, forgiveness of others who now regret their actions, a renewed commitment to love, and a letting go of what is ending. With any luck, and a lot of reading, that will allow me to join the work of the future.
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