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Opinion: The bereaved are the forgotten victims of coronavirus

05:00 15/03/2021
No final goodbye, an 'express' funeral and inadequate psychological support - Belgium's coronavirus restrictions have been devastating for anyone who has lost a loved-one to the virus, writes Ludovic Emmada

On 17 April 2020, just a few weeks after the beginning of the coronavirus lockdown, my 63-year-old mother passed away in hospital, alone.

I didn't let my mother die alone - because that decision was never up to me. Our policymakers had taken decisions to protect people from the virus, but these have caused collateral damages that will leave a life-long scar on grieving citizens, who have had such precious moments with dying loved-ones stolen from them. We are the forgotten victims.

Like others, I have to live now without my mother and with unanswered questions: How did my mother live her last days alone in the hospital? Did she ask me to be at her side? Whose was the last face she saw when she died? Which special power has the right to prevent citizens from bringing end-of-life support to their loved ones?

A few days after the virus entered our country, government decisions were made without taking care of the unbearable isolation and potential collateral damages. In utter panic, the nursing home closed the doors to me "until further notice".

Appalling statistics and the fear of dying forced me to play the lockdown game by the rules. I barely had the time to acclimatise to this new way of life and to accept the ban on visiting my mother. I was holding my breath and my tears.

A few weeks later, my mum was quickly taken to the intensive care unit. After a long day with no news, a nurse informed me that my mother had contracted this damn virus.

Alone and feeling helpless

Far away from everything, confined and alone, I was feeling helpless. I would have loved to support her, but the government and its institutions prevented me from being there for her. I realised that I was deprived as much of my freedom as of my free will. Supporting loved ones at the end of their lives is now just as essential as protecting others. How could our decision-makers let thousands of people die without their families?

My mother stopped fighting against Covid in less than five days. I woke up in a real nightmare with the announcement of her last breath. I couldn't even be there for her. My mother died alone, without me. I understood how political decisions could severely have a dangerous impact on people when the decision-makers robbed me of one of the most important moments in my life and in my mother’s life.

Unexpectedly, the hospital allowed me to see her one last time. Dressed in what felt like cosmonaut gear, I was allowed to stay for a few minutes with her. She seemed to be sleeping so peacefully.

On that painful day, I kissed her forehead without thinking of a possible contamination and social contact prohibitions. Devastated, I collapsed in the hospital car park.

The new government decisions relating to funerals broke my heart once again. At that time, a fresh new protocol compelled me to endure a closed-casket ceremony and to select the "10 dearest ones" my mother would have wished by her side.

The funeral began with a silent march. I walked, head down, past the church so dear to my mother. The "express ceremony" took place instead at the doors of the cemetery. And that day, we were not allowed to take the time to share our pain and we dispersed.

A moral obligation to mourners

I'm facing the void left by my mother's absence. The lockdown, the fear of being infected and government policy have made it difficult to get the necessary support during these months of mourning.

A book written by the French psychiatrist Christophe Fauré has allowed me to better understand myself through the mourning process. According to him, several factors can cause potential damages to the healing process: complicated death circumstances, an unexpected death, the absence of end-of-life support, a lack of support from your circle. These can lead to a very difficult mourning - and healing will probably take more time. And, in some cases, we don’t have any other option than seeking help and assistance from a psychologist.

If the government decides to isolate vulnerable people, fails to protect them, doesn't allow relatives to accompany them in their last hours, destroys the symbolic value of rites and then sends the mourners back to their own solitude, it seriously impacts their mental health. The government has more than a moral obligation to look after its mourners.

How can we give a new meaning to life after the death of a loved one during a health crisis? After the dark days of anger, grief and depression, a few rays of light try to come in and to enlighten a new path to reconstruction and healing. Getting back to work can help, but videoconferencing abates the sense of belonging to the company or gives less palpable recognition than you used to get in the workplace.

The lack of doing things together does not facilitate the mental recovery. Without the chance to rely on the resilience of strong social bonds, getting help from a specialist is the only remedy left to survive, to contextualise traumatic experiences and to heal the inflicted wounds.

Even though our policymakers are encouraging psychological support, they do not really make it fully affordable. Getting support has a price and is luxury a lot of people cannot afford.

Our policymakers have to choose a more humane option. Our government must now protect mental health just like physical health. Our policymakers must learn from the various failures in the health crisis management and offer relief to those who have lost someone from Covid.

Symbolic gestures are no longer sufficient. Concrete actions such as a decent end-of-life support and care in times of lockdown, a more systematic response to grief counselling in times of crisis, a full coverage of all expenses related to psychological support and trauma and an extended social protection in case of work incapacity would be fair and adequate compensations. And a real hand extended to the Covid mourners waiting for official recognition and true relief.

Photo: Laurie Dieffembacq/Belga

Written by Ludovic Emmada