Reevaluating grief in the time of COVID-19

Nothing is more personal than grief. All but the most solitary individuals will experience it, and there are few processes more isolating.

Mourning is turning the life that was, before, into the life that is, after. There is no "correct" way.

Today, a growing number of people are seeking cultural products related to grief amid the collective sense of tragedy and loss imposed by the COVID-19 pandemic.

Sometimes grief and its disruptive outriders can be anticipated and prepared for. But, as the global epidemic has shown, they can also be sudden and devastating.

The pandemic has left more people than ever coping with loss.

Amy Green is operations manager at Cruse Bereavement Care and said its work has been transformed.

"Previously, we worked a lot face to face. But overnight, we had to change because the most important thing was keeping going. Now, we have web chats, and our helpline is open longer," she said.

"Usually, people come to us after five or six months. But because social support is limited, they're coming earlier."

In fragmented times, contact is key.

"Staying in touch is crucial," she said.

"Even saying 'I'm sorry for your loss; I don't know what to say' is better than nothing. If you offer support and someone doesn't take it up, just knowing you're there helps."

Michael Rosen is one of Britain's best-known children's authors. Many people have turned to his Sad Book, written after his son Eddie died from meningitis, for consolation.

"When he was young, I mentioned Eddie in some poems, and after he died, a child at a reading asked what happened to him," Rosen said.

"That made me think I should write to explain my feelings. I scribbled something on a pad and said to my publisher, 'Does this interest you?'. It did."

The book is written in simple language, but Rosen is reluctant to categorize it.

"It's an adult talking about losing a child, so it speaks to both and is something they can share," he said.

"People say it addresses vulnerability in many ways, and the feedback is always full of gratitude. It's nice to know it has helped people start talking and not feel alone."

Cartoonist Gary Andrews' personal work has likewise helped others.

His book, Finding Joy, chronicles his journey since the death of his wife, Joy. It was commissioned in 2019, so its pandemic publication is coincidental but could not be more timely.

"I discovered the self-therapy of drawing helped, so I shared them with friends but soon got responses from other people, which made me realize it had wider value," he said.

"The book is open-ended because it's an ongoing journey. It's the story of my loss, but we're all in darkness now and people find it comforting that we can move toward the light. It's like emotional organ donation. Every bit of feedback makes me feel her death was less in vain."

Derry in Northern Ireland is a city with a long societal relationship with loss because of the Troubles, and its Playhouse Theatre devised a uniquely local way to process grief.

A storytelling performance called Anything Can Happen: 1972, about the victims of the Troubles, was in development when the lockdown was imposed. So, to create an atmosphere for live-streamed performances, the producers filled empty seats with the personal effects of Troubles victims.

"Someone said grief is love with nowhere to go. We made the theater somewhere it can go," said the piece's writer, Damian Gorman.

"In a theater, the lights go down, people turn to the stage and lights come on－the perfect metaphor for hope."

The idea was inspired by a Bosnian piece called Sarajevo Red Lines that commemorates the siege of Sarajevo, and its subtitle, Sunlit Absence, comes from Irish poet Seamus Heaney. "The theater was filled with the presence of the departed, their sunlit absences," Gorman said.

"Someone sent a bar of soap, whose smell reminded them of a lost loved one. There was an unfinished bottle of tablets and a piece of bubble wrap with a note saying, 'We should have wrapped you in this.'"

History means Northern Ireland has a unique relationship with death.

"There's a reverence for loss that the piece embraces," said its producer, Kieran Griffiths.

"There's a mural called The Death of Innocence, of Annette McGavigan, the 14-year-old girl who was the 100th civilian Troubles victim, which thousands of people see every day.

"For years, it was in black and white, with a rifle on it. But when the peace process began, they added color and broke the rifle. Death is part of life here."

One of the storytellers is Susan Stanley, whose brother Paddy died three months before she was born. Being born into mourning remains her biggest loss, she said, but 21st-century grief is different.

"Mourning is not just for a person," she said.

"Because of COVID, we've all lost parts of our life. But what's positive is that it has encouraged people to think about loss.

"The items people sent showed what sunlit absence means to them, and ways we can express it. We need new ways to comfort one another and acknowledge loss. It never goes away, but you can learn to cope."

Gorman said the show had been a healing experience in such troubled times, whose duration and outcome remain unknown.

"People have said it made them feel less alone with whatever they're going through," he said.

"I couldn't ask for more."