My grandfather just died while the country’s on lockdown. Now what?

Last Friday, I packed my bag to leave New York City with no return date in mind. It was a decision I never imagined I would have to make.

I returned to my childhood home in Denver with my parents, sister and brother-in-law. Two weeks passed. Then the telephone rang with news: my grandpa had passed away in his sleep at the age of 91, from ailments not related to coronavirus.

A wave of emotions hit me: confusion, shock, sadness, anger, grief. All of them morphed together as we attempted as a family to digest the news. We’d lost a father, father-in-law, grandpa, friend, jokester, Big Cheese, golf enthusiast, Navy veteran, all in one moment.

Normally, after the shock of news wears off, a family starts planning how they will say goodbye and when. Flights will be scheduled, hotels booked, and phone calls made to employers to ask for that time off.

Instead, we were left with: Now what? Can we all really trek up to Wyoming from different parts of the US? Can we really gather together in a party larger than 10 people to celebrate someone who made such a profound impact on our lives? Can we really hold a service with the resources currently available? The answer is no. That world, the one where family and friends can gather in a large group without fear of infecting others or breaking restrictions, does not currently exist.

Morally, we can’t justify everyone traveling up to Wyoming, a state that has significantly fewer cases than other parts of the US, over fear of spreading the virus or infecting my grandma, who is the most vulnerable in our family. But it's not just morals stopping us. Restrictions and regulations put in place by the state and federal government are there for a reason. And no matter how much it pains us, a normal funeral service is just not possible. It will not happen in this current reality.

I would be lying if I said that doesn’t hurt. Watching my mom and her siblings come to the realization that they cannot be physically with each other during this most painful moment of all moments breaks my heart. I know they would all give anything for the situation to be different.

My grandpa was a humble man with a sharp sense of humor. As he aged, he also developed a profound gratitude for life and its simple gifts. During one of my final interactions with him last summer, he expressed frustration about his inability to wear dress pants because he could no longer find any of his belts, so my mother and I went out and bought him a $10 one from the store. It was a quick solution that took minimal effort on our part. But the look on his face when we handed him that belt was as if we handed him a winning lottery ticket. That belt was unwrapped right away and hung with pride in his closet.

His humbleness made him someone who didn’t expect grand gestures or huge services. He would’ve never wished for all us family members to drop everything during this time to celebrate his life. All he wanted was his favorite peanut butter cookies and a glass of wine at the end of the day.

But a funeral service is never really for the person who died. Instead, it is for the people left behind — it offers a moment to reflect, to begin the grieving process, and to take time to remember that person.

That is what Covid-19 took away from us. Our ability to grieve and mourn in the one way we knew how: together.

My family is not unique, not in the slightest. In the past couple months, people have lost grandparents, parents, siblings, cousins, friends, colleagues, and neighbors. These lives were taken both from Covid-19 and from other ailments. Some of these deaths happened in the most tragic circumstances: isolated and alone.

I look forward to the faraway tomorrow, when my family can trade in video chats and text messages for hugs and one more gathering in my grandparents’ family room. When we can share stories about my grandpa that will make us laugh, cry, and come to terms with his passing in physical proximity to each other.

Hugh Bryan may have been a humble man who never expected a big fuss, but, like everyone whose lives have been lost during the last few months, he deserved one.

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