Bravery and Loss During a Pandemic

Post submitted by guest author Nicole 

It’s been three-and-a-half years since my dad died. In that time, I’ve cycled through a range of hostile grief emotions before landing in a place where I feel mostly settled and secure. If you would have asked me how I was a few months ago, I would have told you that my days felt manageable and predictable. Even though I miss him immensely, I could generally think about my dad and feel connected to him without spiraling into an overwhelming sense of pain. That would have been my pre-pandemic answer, but being in quarantine and worrying about my health and safety has resurfaced a lot of grief emotions.

The loss of predictability, the bracing for the unknown, and the waking up and trying to remember what is actually happening feels terribly familiar.

After spending four months in various stages of lockdown, I feel lost in time again, and I find myself in the bargaining phase of wishing I could do anything to return life to normalcy. The fact that nothing feels totally normal or comfortable reminds me of those early grief months. I feel even more deeply for families who are navigating a recent loss in the midst of this pandemic while everything in the outside world feels extra restrictive and dangerous and unreal. If that’s you, please know that you are not alone and it will not feel like this forever. One thing I wish someone had told me in the early stages of grief is this: you don’t need to be brave right now.

After my dad died, well-meaning friends and strangers told me I was “so brave” for speaking at his service, “so brave” for taking care of my mom, “so brave” for continuing my work travel, and “so brave” for existing, essentially. There was something about being praised for the way that I was surviving that felt wrong to me. While everything felt impossible, these comments made me feel like I was responsible for holding everything together by maintaining a façade of bravery.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this concept of bravery, especially in light of this coronavirus pandemic. I feel for essential workers who are celebrated for “bravely” continuing to do their work and risking their own lives without having another realistic option. To me, bravery means doing a scary thing or choosing a difficult path when there’s a valid, easier option available. I’ve done some brave things in my life, like skydiving, moving to a new country, public speaking, and coming out as bisexual.

All of those things were risky, and I chose to do them. I could have opted not to jump out of the plane, or to stay in the city I loved living in. I could have declined the requests to speak, or kept my sexuality private. I chose to do all of those things in my own way when I felt ready. But, I didn’t choose for my dad to die. It’s the hardest and most painful thing I’ve ever experienced and I’m not proud of myself for bravely navigating that – I’m sad I had to.

I didn’t choose to live during a global pandemic. Like my experience with traumatic grief, I feel like I wasn’t given any time to plan or prepare for this. Being separated from my friends and my family and support system is difficult and suffering through these experiences isn’t an act of bravery, it’s an act of endurance. I don’t want to be praised; I just want to survive.

I believe that doing brave things, in the long run, is important. It builds up resilience and confidence. But bravery, in the short term, puts excessive stress on my body. It can make me feel emotionally exhausted and unnecessarily vulnerable when I’m already trying to heal. Why would we encourage that right now? I really just wanted to remind myself and everyone who is recovering from a loss in the midst of a pandemic that you don’t have to be brave today. Being brave isn’t always the safest option. Sometimes, when you’re already grieving, the easier, more comfortable path is valid and necessary. Muscles need rest to grow. Peonies need a dormant winter to bloom. Don’t let anyone make you feel guilty for taking care of yourself.

You’re doing enough right now.