I have been looking at this photo a lot the past few days. It’s a monumental one because it pictures both of my grandmas together, and back when they were kids, a picture like this couldn’t have even happened. Rough around the edges, sharp-tongued. I was lucky enough to have two grandmothers who are the kind to speak up more than shy away from what they believe. It’s a joy and a threat all at once! And boy, I have a lot to learn from them.

My grandmother, Love (pic: right), transitioned on May 6, 2020 and I’m left scrambling in memories that are distant. I naively wish for childhood again when I was held in my family’s arms and we meant everything to each other. When I was young, youth granted infinity and beyond! Time was on our side. More than often now, health and age remind me that we go just as we came. And to be held by, or to hold, my loved one just wasn’t a possibility this time.

Death already feels like the hardest lesson in letting go and grieving in a pandemic that requires social distance feels like an utter lack of closure. This virus makes it terribly hard to be both alive and dead. With stalled memorials, wakes and gatherings, we are stalled in this cyclical process of transition that requires closeness to complete itself. Where a shared meal can satisfy the pain of loss and loneliness after death, social distance forces us to reckon with the empty space where a loved one’s body once occupied.

I’d be lying to say there wasn’t comfort that I feel in knowing the rest of the world is going through the very same thing, struggling with loss and grief. Grandparents, parents, siblings, friends, partners, mentors have been lost – it’s not right and it’s not easy. In this strange mess, though we are distant, our troubles have never felt more connected.

And my grandmommy Love feels closer to me now than before because I am preciously holding onto the memories, her characteristics, and her voice. I am even learning more about her that I hadn’t heard before. When I cook a meal, it’s in her name. When I dance, it’s in her name. When I laugh, it’s in her name. It’s in her name… Love! I hope she feels it.