Saturday 28th March.
I had forgotten that, during this time of covid, it was still possible to die of other things. I thought a moratorium had been placed on death by natural (which, in this case, means anything except covid…) causes. It seems not, and irony has a way of catching you out…
Friday 20th March.
My (Belgian) partner receives the telephone call that nobody wishes to receive, to tell her that her 80-odd year old father has a matter of days to live, due to pancreatic cancer. He lives in the UK and so, the following morning…
Saturday 21st March
…she begins the long drive to Calais, takes a ferry, and spends the night in a hotel in Dover, and then drives the following morning to Truro in Cornwall. She is able to arrive in time. However, and of course, she is now on that island, which seems like an overflowing petri dish of covid-19.
About two hours after she left, I received a phone call from the wife of my closest, oldest friend, to tell me that he had died in the night of a heart attack. I first met Bill when working in Nepal, and he was the person I could always turn to, and now there is a hole in my heart, my life. His two kids now have no father, his wife no husband, and I will never see him again, and it hurts.
Sunday 22nd March
About the same time in the morning as yesterday’s phone call, or am I now reimagining that, I received another call, from the partner of another old, dear friend, to tell me that he had taken his own life. I first met David in Beirut where we both taught in the same school. He had been on my mind these past days since he lives in New York, in a small apartment, and I was wondering how the lockdown was affecting him. It isn’t any more.
Wednesday 25th March
…in the wee small hours, my partner’s father succumbs.
None of the three of them can have funerals. Those left behind cannot receive visitors.
Bill was my age, 54; David was a sprightly 43.
When mortality is at the top of the agenda in any case due to ‘this’, the grim reaper pops its head round the door and reminds you that, yes, business as normal continues unabated.
I am so so sorry to hear this. My thoughts are with you and all those affected.
Very sorry to read about your ‘normal’ deaths. Unfortunately the following will be no consolation for your losses, but is still perhaps worth recounting as a couple of grammes of counterbalance.
I recently posted on SF about my ninety-four year old mother being near to death in a UK hospital. At the time, my brothers didn’t think she’d make it through that night. However, to our great surprise, she rallied and has since progressed from an isolation ward to taking her first steps on a treadmill (though I’ve warned her against running just yet…).
It’s her ninety-fifth birthday in three weeks time and I think she’ll still be around, as stubborn as ever and too stubborn to die!
bless… 
Once she reached her 80’s “Great” Aunt Flo used to die quite regularly (or so it seemed)… and for no particular reason. The whole family would rush (from wherever) to get to the hospital in time. … only to find she was OK and it was just one of those unexplained things…
After yet another false alarm, her youngest sister, my mother-in-law, loudly proclaimed…" if she doesn’t die soon, I’ll kill her myself !!!" 
“Great” Aunt Flo finally died, peacefully, in her own bed at the age of 99 … 
glad your Mum is doing well…
Keep on keepin’ on, Mrs Hayward 
Yours is a poignant message and a timely one. Your being caught unawares is a commonplace reaction, but not universal. Without being preachy or glib, it pays to remind ourselves, and I include myself here, as part of our attitude to life in general, and our own especially, that death awaits us all, and the reaping is not grim, though some will characterise it so. Unnecessarily, and unhelpfully too IMO.
The personal experience of death {that of the dying person) is, having witnessed and been party to the death of others, unknowable.
The experience of those who witness death is not entirely reliable, in the same way that those who experience the birth throes of others are prone to misinterpret what happens, and the experience of the mother, and that of her child.
It is of course sad for many, although many are able not to make it greatly so. And there is no need to put emphasis on sorrow. To some extent it is a socially conditioned response, and again not universal.
I hope my comments are not taken as a criticism or a dismissal of your own reaction, which was a considered one and, I think, intended to make your readers think. My own experience is conditioned by my work in the charitable hospice sector over many years, and my career as a nurse.
Best wishes and thanks for sharing your views.
Not at all Peter. Your words are appreciated. Thank you. It has been a week of reflection, and this catharsis of mine is only helped by the reflections of others.
Please don’t belittle the following, I truly feel sorry for those who have loved ones who they cannot see in their hour of need.
My old friend Dylan took ill last week and yesterday he died in my arms. He was this mans best friend and in dog years was 82. I took my usual walk around the garden this morning but it was not the same, he wasn’t by my side. We have had dogs all our lives and we all know that they dont live forever but it is no less hard when we loose them. I’m 66 and crying as I type but feel better for sharing. In a few days we will reminisce of all the joy he gave us. His collar now hangs on a hook above his favourite spot indoors. He gave us so much joy in his 11+ years and was a strong healthy chap until the end. We still have Alfie his little friend who seems to be taking our loss in his stride. He will be 11 this summer and hopefully as a smaller chap might have a while longer , I hope so.
Thanks for reading.
My reflection on the deaths of parents & in laws is that to die at an advanced age without pain, in comfortable surroundings, and having had time to say goodbye is a pretty good way to go. The one of the 4 that still haunts me is MIL who died too early (80) in pain and confusion, without any family by her side as the hospital at that time had been struck by a virus - I think it was norovirus - and was closed to all visitors. So the fact that your partner managed to make it to her father’s side must have been good for him, and should hopefully help her through the next difficult period.
But for your friends who died so young you have my sympathy. Those friends of mine who died too young some 5 and 10 years back I remember frequently and miss them still. Sometimes more than my own mother as she died when her time was right. It’s hard.
I hope your partner is able to het back so you can at least be together.
I wouldn’t dream of belittling your sorrow over the loss of a loved companion animal, and trust you not to take my following comment amiss, John.
The question of what dying people need or want is more often assumed by observers who don’t see the need to enquire about those wants or needs from the dying person themselves. This kindness can be and often is misplaced.
Dying people often wish to give themselves up to the dying process, and many find the process neither grim nor distressing overall, although pain and discomfort may arise, and need attention.
Like many animals ‘in the natural world’, people experience an unusual sense of detachment or retreat from the world as they have always known it, and can not or don’t experience a need to share it, even with loved ones, and especially with loved ones.
It is not uncommon for a dying person to seek to ‘turn their face to the wall’, literally as well as figuratively. They find the emotions of family and friends something of an embarrassment, lacking relevance to their own state of mind. But they are too tactful to say so!
It’s a bit like seeing someone off at the airport or the railway platform. Best to say goodbye without fuss, turn and go without looking back or waving mournfully and clingingly. The dying person is ready to embark on their journey, and their attention is on that. It’s a clean break, and hovering disrupts it. It is a very useful thing to tell the dying person that you are going, and to do so in a matter-of-fact-way.
This approach is of especial value if death seems to be protracted, and if the dying person seems to have lost consciousness but is ‘clinging on’ uncomfortably.
Let them go. Tell them it’s OK to go. And that you’re going home to see to the children, or to do the shopping. It really helps. It’s not uncommon for granny to die when family members tip-toe out of the room to get a cup.of tea, or have a fag.
These techniques or practices are widely practiced in other cultures than our civilised ones, and the hospice movement has gained important insights like these into end-of-life care from the East, and from the southern hemisphere.
As is generally well known, hospices are not mournful places, although everyone knows people go there “to have a good death”.
In Tibet, a neighbour will call in to say goodbye to a dying friend with the words “I’m on my way to town on business, and I expect you’ll be dead when I get back, so I’ve dropped in to say " Goodbye, old friend!”. And, with a smile, he turns and leaves. That’s it. 
Peter,
Very well put & understandable for one and all 
Thank you.
From my own experience and after speaking to nurses specialising in end of life care, I agree with your thoughts, although of course everyone is different.
The last few weeks has been a stark reminder of what life used to be like before a public health service. But I have just realized that the majority of people around today have never known anything else. If anything is learned from this, we will know that “Just enough for normal times” just isn’t good enough.
Suddenly we have all accepted social distancing as a necessary normal, but we should not lose sight of the importance of taking care in other ways.
Because of the lockdown, large numbers of people are stuck at home with nothing to do. A perfect opportunity to get on with some of those DIY jobs or working in the garden. But it is well known that most accidents happen in the home. Anything from standing on a chair to change a light bulb to careless use of power tools or ladders can end in a visit to hospital. So it is important to take extra care. We can no longer depend upon getting the quick and competent care we have become used to. And possibly even more important, we will be increasing the pressure on the health service and diverting resources from people who are hospitalized for no fault of their own.
The good news is that there are likely to be less road accidents.
Really excellent, Mike. Should be landing on every doormat in the UK. Puts Johnson’s self-serving and mealy-mouthed missive to shame, except he hasn’t got any.
BTW ‘Sky’ news have been publishing “key facts” about the pandemic for weeks, including “What to Do” bullet points. But they’ve dropped the vital “keep your social distance” reminder. Wonder why?
It’s the way we live now. Nothing is news after a week has gone by.
Today I heard the term “viral load” for the first time.
Our Mayor (or he will be once the meeting has taken place) has been asking people not to use chainsaws for that very reason.
Forgot to mention chainsaws. Mine is mothballed for the duration. But a few weeks ago I bought a wonderful Stanley Jetcut handsaw. Goes through big logs like a hot knife through butter and helps to provide the exercise that I can no longer get at the piscine.
I’m so sorry for all your losses.
Just spotted this ad on our site. The advertisers seem to think that it’s perfectly safe to go for a walk on the roof without safety equipment. Don’t do it! Especially now, unless you want to suffer an abnormal death in the time of coronavirys.