Two years ago we lost our Dad to Covid. It still hurts.

 

The Call that made me Scream

The snow fell heavy, in almost blizzard-like conditions that Monday morning, January 3, 2022. For southern Delaware that meant schools were closed for this rare occurrence. Soon after I got the school closing phone call, I got one of the most sickening calls of my life. It was the local hospital where my Dad had been for almost two weeks, most of that time on a ventilator.

Dad’s ICU nurse called to say he had a bad morning and his organs were shutting down. Covid pneumonia had weakened and battered his body for weeks. His oxygen and blood pressure had suddenly dropped despite being on 100% vent support and multiple meds. He might not survive the day. Our family should come to the hospital soon to say goodbye.

I wanted to throw up. I screamed. My fists pounded the bed as I yelled God. I pleaded with Him not to take my Dad. My tearful pleas - why are you doing this? Why are you taking him from us?

Though I knew the outlook was not good after him being sedated on the ventilator for almost 2 weeks, our family prayed and believed for a miracle. After all, he had miraculously recovered from a massive heart attack almost four years earlier and had been doing well.

It was a slow drive through the country roads thickly covered in snow to go pick up my Mom. She was praying with faith, still believing for a miracle. My husband drove his F-150 through the treacherous conditions, which made the typical 20 minute drive to the hospital take what felt like an eternity. Honestly, I was trying not to pass out. The feelings of fear and grief gripped my body, making me light-headed.

Blessed by a Wonderful Father

My Dad, Byron Outten, was the kind of Dad every girl would hope for. He loved the Lord and his family. He was my encourager, support through life’s hardships and biggest cheerleader in my successes. He told me often he was proud of me and that I was beautiful. I knew death would not be the end for him. He raised us in a Christian home, where he was faithful in his morning devotion time. Even now, there are still his hand-written Bible verses on sticky notes surrounding his desk at home. He taught us that if we believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and we would spend eternity in Heaven.

So much of his life was a reflection of Christ’s love. He had a servant heart and generous spirit that was well known in our community. Dad often paid for someone’s meal or coffee, randomly brought people cookies and treats, and helped many in times of financial distress – no matter how tight his finances. He owned a plumbing business for many years, and I’ve lost track of how many times people told me that he fixed their urgent plumbing need for little or no payment. The world was a better place with my Dad in it.

At the Hospital

The hospital was full of patients, but the main lobby was empty. No visitors due to Covid. Unless your loved one was at the end.

The three of us were solemnly led through the quiet halls up to the ICU.

I had seen my Dad on the ventilator through the hospital’s video facetime many times before that day. I would call the hospital and the nurse, fully garbed up and looking like someone from the movie “Outbreak”, would prop up the tablet on the tray facing my Dad. I could see the tubes in his mouth and hear the air being forced into his lungs through the machine. Rough to see but I wanted to talk to my Dad. I told him about life and the events surrounding the holidays. I would post updates on social media and read him the hundreds of comments from family and friends who were sending love and prayers.  On Christmas Day my Mom, brothers and I called and sang him a few Christmas carols. On New Years Day, my sister and I called him, trying to be hopeful and happy in the new year.

Dad never opened his eyes or responded much in a way we could tell, but the nurse told me his heart rhythms on the monitor would change when we called.

But as we walked into the hospital that day, Dad looked worse than I expected. His religiously clean-shaven face was scruffy, his silky white hair was matted, his skin color too yellow, and his cheeks worn from the adhesives for the ventilator.

The staff was gracious and allowed us to spend hours with him that day, as the snow continued to fall all morning and later subsided. My Mom loved on her husband of 43 years. She prayed scriptures over him and played his favorite worship songs and displayed faith I’d rarely seen. Even in his frailty, she kept praying for a miracle.

More family arrived at the hospital - my two brothers, one’s girlfriend and my Dad’s beloved only sister and her husband. My three young children were not allowed in to see their Grandpa, and they are still upset they did not get to say goodbye in person.   

Dad survived that day. We think it’s so that my out-of-state older sister could have time to come down and be there.

The Day we lost Dad

We returned to the hospital all together the next day, emotionally exhausted. The eight of us surrounded his bed when Dad took his last breath on January 4, 2022. It was exactly one month from the last time I had been able to give him a hug before he became ill with Covid-19.

That same day we saw two other families in the ICU saying goodbye to their loved ones.

We know that we were among the fortunate ones to be by Dad’s side at the end of this life. For countless many, Covid restrictions did not allow that and the nurses and doctors were left with the heavy role of being there in the final moments of life. It really is a truly awful illness.

So much Grief and Loss

Many times since our schools and businesses shut down in March of 2020, we wanted to believe the pandemic was not as bad as they said. That it only impacted people with pre-existing conditions.

Yes, my Dad had troubled lungs and a weak heart prior to getting Covid. But those pre-existing conditions did not make the immense loss any easier.

And this story is not about vaccination status. Please don’t make it so. It’s a story about a relatable loss and grief that millions around the globe experienced over the past few of years. And according to an ICU nurse I spoke with, one of the most common feelings that accompanies grief is Guilt from families who lost loved ones to Covid. We wonder and question if more could be done to save our loved ones.

For our community, early 2022 seemed to be about the hardest hit time. That January four people from my Dad’s church passed away – reportedly two were vaccinated and two were not. Within the weeks following, I watched three other families with women my age suffer through watching a very similar downward spiral in their fathers’ health and untimely death to Covid. Then I heard of several more – so many men in their sixties were dying. It was alarming.

The local funeral home director was so empathetic and compassionate toward us, even during the busiest time he had experienced in his career. It was unlike anything before. So many grieving families.

My Dad’s funeral lasted three hours. It may seem long but there was much to share about his life well lived, and many of those in attendance or who watched online said it was one of the best services they’d ever seen.

A month later, I celebrated my 40^th birthday without my Dad. Then Father’s Day came and I didn’t have my Dad to take out to lunch. My Mom barely endured what would have been their 44^th wedding anniversary in July without her husband. In November ‘22, we remembered Dad and gathered for dinner on what would have been his 65^th Birthday. I even made his favorite blueberry cheesecake. And my mom’s 65^th birthday fell on Thanksgiving Day. Two very difficult firsts without her husband. We miss him greatly. Every. Single. Day.

We lost our Dad to Covid. And so many days, we are not Okay. The grief and loss is real. And it’s because we loved so much and were so well loved. We are just one of millions forever impacted by this terrible virus.

Two years later we have not moved on. That’s not how grief works.  We still love and remember him, yet try not to get too lost in the memories. We adjust our expectations, especially for family dinners and birthday parties where his absence is keenly felt. We cry in private and stay active and busy in public.

On Christmas day, I woke with a heavy heart of sadness knowing that he would not be with us. I covered it and put on a joyous smile to be with my children as they embraced the excitement of Christmas morning. I am so very thankful for the years I had with my Dad, and I’m jealous of those who get more. Each day is a gift. 

Sending out my love, hugs and empathy for all those who understand this.

Miss you and Love you always, Dad.