Easter has
come and gone, although Easter is always with us. This coming Sunday, Low
Sunday, in fact tomorrow, we celebrate it again. But with only virtual services,
and no joyful festivities, no getting together with coffee and cakes or Easter
eggs, no greetings, hugging, seeing each other face to face, it seems unreal,
Easter on paper. What we experience now may be what is worst for prisoners, the
total lack of physical contact with another human being. It is said that the
best medicine is skin to skin contact, a healing force. The absence of that, “skin
hunger”, can be very detrimental. Not everybody will suffer from that during
this lock down, living with a family or a partner. But people in nursing homes
or other institutions like that have to go without being able to touch their
nearest and dearest. It is a cruel fate to be deprived of that. And why? To
protect the visitors, the other inhabitants, or that one vulnerable patient?
Since most inhabitants of care homes know this is the last stage of their lives,
wouldn’t they prefer to be touched by their loves ones and run the risk of an
earlier death to being bereft of their loved ones and prolong their lives a bit,
but without those who are dearest to them?? It is very unnatural and cruel to
both old people, lonely people, the dying and their loved ones.
Easter is
new life at a time when nature re-emerges from its winter sleep. There is a
riot of colour, blossoming trees, glorious bulb fields, unfolding leaves, often
a very bright and translucent green before they adept more modest and mature colours.
Frogs noisily produce spawn, fish are seen again near the surface, seemingly
enjoying the sun. Everything comes to life again.
Although we
have to keep at arm’s length distance, at least in this country we are allowed out,
which is a bonus. And lucky are those who like me have a garden or back yard,
however small. We can observe and enjoy the awakening of nature. Yesterday I
took the car, avoiding busy times and crowded roads, to enjoy some of the
beauty of the bulb fields before it is all gone. I bought 100 tulips and 50
hyacinths, the latter in an unusual soft yellow colour. The tulips and
hyacinths are all sold in packets of 50, at very low prices because there are far
too many due the export ban because of the virus. The tulips are given for free
to nursing homes and old people’s homes, and sold along the roads, money to be
put in honesty boxes, trusting customers will pay the ridiculously low price
they ask for the flowers. Paying by smartphone is another possibility. I
indulged in filling my house with colour and giving bunches to my sick neighbour
as well. I can’t do much for her, except provide her with flowers regularly,
which is easy at this time and where I live, amongst the bulb fields!
Somehow or other
we have lost the rhythm of the year, the seasons coming and going and the
events connected with them. Museums are closed, churches are closed, the place
where we go to in times of need and sorrow, concerts and festivals are
cancelled. Every new day resembles the previous one. We lose our grip on time.
And we will lose ourselves if this continues much longer. We need to be touched,
to know we exist in connection with other human beings.
My former neighbour
died this week in a care home. Not of Corona, but in spite of that we I can’t go
to het funeral. She was always friendly with me, and good to us when my husband
was very sick and house bound. I had moved when I got married and we were no
longer neighbours. But she visited us and invited me for meals when my husband
passed away. I lost contact when she moved into a care home as nobody had told
me. But not so long ago the contact was restored. Too late to visit her as
corona regulations were already enforced, but at least I could write to her
which I did. I am glad that was just in time before she passed away. But not
being able to attend her funeral is sad, as it is for so many others who can’t
pay their last respects to friends and family.
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