My mother was in a local nursing home and was to celebrate her 85th birthday on March the 28th. The family had planned a grand party. Her health wasn’t that great, but she seemed very excited when I spoke of the celebration.

About a week before the party I was informed that a “lockdown” was ordered. The only contact with my mom was via the phone, social media or crudely looking through her window. Little did I know how long this policy was to last and how strict the physical contact ban would be enforced.

As the weeks went by, I phoned trying to enlighten her on why none of the family had been to see her and why we didn’t have the birthday party. At 85, Mom wasn’t that sound mentally and trying to explain the virus and how to use social media was futile. She soon began to feel abandoned and refused to eat. She was taken to the hospital where she got much worse and even more isolated. Her will to live was gone. Even then, I and the rest of the family still could not see her. This was torment beyond belief.

We decided if she was to die then we would bring her home. I began to be hopeful that maybe she wasn’t that bad, but when I seen my mother for the first time in six weeks I was shocked at her weakened appearance that had happened so quick. I knew death would soon come. On April 27th Mama died.

The reason I’m sharing my bereavement is to show that my mom did not died of the virus. She died because for six weeks she was deprived of the one cure that was greater than any medicine, a cure that God in his wisdom made, stronger than any force. The cure I speak of is simply love.

In that six week, none were there to tell her how much we loved her. We were not there to look into her eyes or hold her hand. Her grandchildren were not there to sing Happy Birthday. Nobody was there to talk of past times, such as when we watched the funeral of President Kennedy on our old black and white TV and how she cried when she seen little John Jr. salute His father’s casket. This lonely period of feeling unwanted was the true cause of her death.

In ending, I can only say that sometimes the cure is worse than the disease and this inhuman, draconian policy is a clear declaration to that. No matter how well meaning it may be, I only hope this never happens to anyone again.

Gary Coffia


Recommended for you