Published: 6 August 2021
Last updated: 4 March 2024
After her mother’s death during Melbourne’s lockdown, DEBORAH STONE reflects on the painful contrast between the passing of her two parents, from family farewells to funerals
MY MOTHER DIED during Melbourne lockdown. She was 84 and terminally ill so, as deaths go, it was not the hardest, especially when compared to the untimely death of my father 27 years ago.
But the process of grieving has been so different due to the stringencies of Covid restrictions.
Many of these difficulties are inevitable, given the unarguable first principle that saving lives matters more than easing the suffering of the bereaved. But there were also unnecessary bureaucratic cruelties that could be handled differently with more efficient and kinder processes for exemptions – with no risk of further Covid cases.
When my father was dying in Auckland, I jumped on a plane from Melbourne as soon as his diagnosis sunk in and was with him for part of his short illness.
When my mother was dying in Melbourne, my youngest brother, who lives in Hong Kong, could not come to see her unless he spent five weeks in quarantine – two at the Australian end and another three on his return to Hong Kong.
My uncle, her younger brother, in New Zealand spent a month on forms and changing regulations before he could visit her, then ended up stuck for an extra week because New Zealand closed the border while he was here.
When my father was dying, friends and family visited constantly. When my mother died, in Cabrini Palliative Care, only two people could be with her. I left the building so a grandchild could spend time with her in what turned out to be the last moments, so was sitting in the car in the pouring rain when she drew her last breath.
