Editor’s note: In anticipation of the one-year anniversary of the COVID-19 pandemic’s arrival in the Upper Valley, we asked Valley News readers to reflect on the last 12 months and to share their thoughts about what has changed in their lives, what they missed, what they lost and what they may have learned. We’re sharing their responses – hopeful, sad, inspired, yearning – as part of a series we are calling “Our Pandemic Year.”
A full year in, we’re all feeling this. Such a new and unwelcome experience. I keep thinking about how my grandparents talked about wars and the Great Depression, but never the 1918 flu pandemic. Why not? This one’s had such an impact on all of us, and I’m sure the pandemic a century ago did, too. But why had most of us never heard of it? I’d love to go back in time to ask about their experiences.
We’ve missed traveling, and seeing friends and family. Our daughter was able to get home safely from her job in China. We celebrated my mom’s 90th birthday in December at her assisted living home, although she was inside and we were outside. My sister’s wedding has been postponed twice, and we’re now looking forward to a celebration in September.
We have lost loved ones, like many people. Our losses weren’t directly due to COVID-19, though. A dear friend just died of cancer. Our 40-year-old nephew died of “natural causes,” likely due to an undiagnosed heart condition. And our 24-year-old nephew died of suicide. His depression may have been exacerbated by the pandemic. These losses have been hard to bear and make us feel like the walking wounded at times.
What has helped? Seeing friends and family when we can safely, baking, online cooking classes, reading, meditation, sewing, phone calls, Zoom church, and getting outside every day to walk, bike, kayak, garden or snowshoe. We feel fortunate to live here.
If you or a loved one is having thoughts of suicide, please get help. The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline number is 800-273-8255.
Julie Lannen lives in Weathersfield.
Having given up volunteer work for fear of exposure to the virus, I put my energy into making and giving away hundreds of masks. But I needed to do something more creative, so I made two fabric murals: one to represent life under COVID-19 and one to represent a space that gives me peace.
Since then, I have turned to making quilts to give away.
What I miss most and value more than ever is direct connection to my community. The lack of human connection is debilitating. Taking care of each other is essential and meeting others online is just not cutting it. If I never see another Zoom meeting, it will be too soon!
Joan Schaafsma lives in Thetford Center.
For the last year, COVID-19 has been a dark cloud following me, and I let it. I had the “poor me” disease, wishing things were different.
What has changed me was a little thing on Facebook advertising free COVID-19 counseling. I’m not a person to admit that I can’t handle something. But I emailed them, and got a Zoom meeting with a counselor! The first meeting, I just talked and cried. And now I’m on week three and it’s been great. I feel better, I’m sleeping better, I’m happier!
I can look ahead and I’m grateful to the counselors who are doing this for free and the change my counselor has helped me make.
Margo O’Day lives in Enfield.
As a graduate student in Dartmouth’s MALS Program, I’ve spent the winter taking a course titled “Epidemics: A Vortex of Fear and Wisdom.” Our first assignment was to read The Plague by Albert Camus, a fictional account of an outbreak.
At the plague’s onset, a doctor struggles to accept the human toll: “Even after Dr. Rieux had admitted in his friend’s company that a handful of persons scattered about the town had without warning died of the plague, the danger still remained fantastically unreal. …”
To date, we have lost more than half a million people in the U.S. to COVID-19. To make the numbers real, 500,000 people is roughly the population of Kansas City or Atlanta or Sacramento. My friend Lynn Crabb works for the Red Cross in Washington, D.C., and makes masks. Her goal is to make 1,000 — one for every person they have lost in D.C., where she lives. She reports that the Red Cross has so far made more than 120,000 masks for veterans and service members.
I am a knitter. I live more than 1,000 miles from my parents and extended family, many of whom are in their 70s. I have not seen my family since December 2019. Instead, I knit washcloths. I have made 19 to date: each one represents someone who has died in Grafton County, where I live. I mail washcloths to friends and family. “Here’s a virtual hug. If you feel sick or sad, wet the washcloth and put it on your forehead.” After knitting more than 2,000 yards of cotton, COVID-19’s toll is starting to feel real.
Eleanor “Chandlee” Bryan lives in Lebanon.