Collective Loss and Hope
My dog and I recently walked past the stately, old gothic, red brick St. Paul’s United Church. The doors, of course, are closed, as are the doors of most churches, and have been for many months.
Seeing this shuttered church, I felt a sudden wave of vast sadness and loss come over me. Though I am not a member or attendee of this church, I have been there many times with my husband and friends to attend concerts by the Consortium Aurora Borealis. I thought of the numerous concerts that have been performed inside those sacred walls over the years, filling the space as well as the hearts and minds of the audience members, transporting them to far off places and times as only music can do.
Having now lived through more than one year of the COVID-19 pandemic, it struck me what a great loss we have all experienced and are continuing to experience all over the world. The loss of being able to come together with likeminded, like-hearted people, the excitement of buying tickets, the anticipation leading up to the concert date, maybe getting dressed up, maybe going out for dinner first, running into old friends and catching up during intermission, and sharing a collective experience of being transported by beauty and artistry for a few hours of escape from the humdrum routine of everyday life.
This loss is compounded now, as I also lost my mother at the end of February. That’s a lot of grief. There is a lot of loss and grief in the pool of humanity right now. COVID-19 has taken lives, but it’s also taken a lot of life - the things that make life full of joy, wonder, and humanity. Things like concerts, dinner parties, hugs.
There is a saying that misery loves company. I don’t know if that is always true, but I have to admit that I take comfort in knowing that I am not alone. No one of us is alone. It gives me strength and courage seeing others forging paths through loss and grief towards hope. I hope I can do the same for those who see me making my way through my own loss and grief.
May we encourage each other to keep going through this marathon. It will end, and when it does…
When we can return to concert-going, I would like to think that I will never take this privilege for granted ever again. On the other hand, I look forward to the day this pandemic is a tiny speck in our collective, distant memory, when being able to attend a concert is as common as breathing, and maybe for a brief moment we have the grand luxury of taking such a precious thing for granted.
