My dad spent the last seven months of his life with me. I tried to keep him safe from Covid in this time. He didn’t leave the house, until one day when we had to take him to the hospital because his O2 levels were very low. That night he passed away. I was with him. It will be four years this August. I am sorry for your loss, Alaknanda. I hope I can muster courage to write about him someday.
Hugs to you, Mitu❤️ Covid was so difficult for those in their senior years. Perhaps more than the rest of us realized at first. It snatched away so many precious memories from them as they isolated away from their loved ones.
The tenor of your essay is how the tenor of life ought to be. I saw your baba so clear and true, I felt both the irony and the grief, the individual and collective loss -- all at once. It takes an Alaknanda to tell a story like this, to hold the sunshine and the debris in her hand, as if it was the most natural thing to do 💗
Alaknanda, how beautifully you shine the light on the minutiae of life. The dishes drying, the mattress on the floor, a gentle man who has a neat desk... such ordinary things and people that shine with so much grace and beauty, and are captured so perfectly on paper by you. Big hug and loads of love.
Alaknanda this is so beautiful and heartbreaking. Hard relate to Covid and parents. While dad dodged the 2021 mayhem, he went away a year later due to covid related complications. Thank you for writing this!
Dear dear Alaknanda, you are a gift to us. Your writing illuminates.
Holding your hands gently as I read this clear eyed account of the collective horrors of the pandemic and lockdown.
Gratitude to the parents who have raised and loved you. Such eternal beauty in your expression.
Alaknanda, my heart is heavy and warm. Thank you for writing this. Sending you love.
🤗🤗💖
My dad spent the last seven months of his life with me. I tried to keep him safe from Covid in this time. He didn’t leave the house, until one day when we had to take him to the hospital because his O2 levels were very low. That night he passed away. I was with him. It will be four years this August. I am sorry for your loss, Alaknanda. I hope I can muster courage to write about him someday.
Hugs to you, Mitu❤️ Covid was so difficult for those in their senior years. Perhaps more than the rest of us realized at first. It snatched away so many precious memories from them as they isolated away from their loved ones.
Alaknanda this was heartbreaking to read. But also in awe of how you hide the craft in the words.
😍🙏🩵
The tenor of your essay is how the tenor of life ought to be. I saw your baba so clear and true, I felt both the irony and the grief, the individual and collective loss -- all at once. It takes an Alaknanda to tell a story like this, to hold the sunshine and the debris in her hand, as if it was the most natural thing to do 💗
😍🌷🩵
Alaknanda, how beautifully you shine the light on the minutiae of life. The dishes drying, the mattress on the floor, a gentle man who has a neat desk... such ordinary things and people that shine with so much grace and beauty, and are captured so perfectly on paper by you. Big hug and loads of love.
🩵🙏🌷
Alaknanda this is so beautiful and heartbreaking. Hard relate to Covid and parents. While dad dodged the 2021 mayhem, he went away a year later due to covid related complications. Thank you for writing this!
🫂🫂🩵