Amidst Pandemic, Stories of Grief Upended

When I think of my mother’s death four years ago, and the days and weeks that followed, my fists clench and my breath quickens. My mind tries to shut down as I recall sitting by her bed, watching her vanish into a drug-addled, wordless wisp. Marching through a mass of mourners and seeing the pity reflected back in their faces. The finality of the thuds of shovels-full of dirt landing on her casket in the ground.