Opinion

SETH EFFRON: A birthday the pandemic forgot. A year with much to remember

Friday, March 5, 2021 -- Exactly one year ago she celebrated her 97th birthday alone, in the studio apartment of an assisted living facility. ... But she is not celebrating her birthday today by herself.

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March 5 flowers and cards
EDITOR'S NOTE: Seth Effron is opinion editor for the Capitol Broadcasting Company.

She’d been widowed for 19 years. Her older son and younger daughter live hundreds of miles away.

Exactly one year ago she celebrated her 97th birthday alone, in the studio apartment of an assisted living facility.

It wasn’t supposed to be that way. Her son and daughter were supposed to come down to North Carolina for a weekend’s birthday celebration visit.

But two days earlier, the first case of COVID-19 was identified in North Carolina. The folks who ran the facility were not about to take any chances. No visits. Residents would be confined to their rooms and apartments until there was more information. No birthday cards, no candles, no cake. Just alone and turning 97 years old.

The deposit on the weekend's Airbnb rental was lost. So was the non-refundable roundtrip airfare.

Given what was to come over the next twelve months, that was a small price to pay.

Distance does not make the heart grow fonder. It deepens the heartache.

How can you build a technology bridge with someone who still looks at the touch-tone telephone as a complicated marvel?

That is where the kindness and love of strangers – caregivers, medical professionals – those we now label “essential workers is found. That is where miracles are performed.

What might come of the family celebrations that were so essential and where she was the central presence?

First was the Passover seder – a festive occasion that lit up the household was the stuff of lasting joy. How would she celebrate now?

With the adaptability and flexibility of her caregivers, she was included in a hastily put together Zoom seder. She marveled at the gathering – a crowd that would have never fit around even the biggest dining table. Passing the matzos would have required a 5,600-mile trip from Denmark to California.

She delighted in the collection of family faces on the iPad. Children, nieces, nephews, grandchildren and great grandchildren! There was no soothing aroma of chicken and matzo ball soup. But there was a delightful rendition of the "Four Questions" and the joyous sounds of the traditional song "Dayenu." It was more than enough.

Memorial Day, July 4, Labor Day, Thanksgiving all came and went. But between, there was the family drive-by. The facility arranged for families of residents to drive through the grounds of the facility. The residents would gather, masked and socially distant as the cars, going ever-so-slowly so as to not miss a glimpse of a loved-one, passed by. Cars and trucks were decorated – reminiscent of a homecoming parade of days gone by. But, to set eyes on a mother or a father for the first time in months, even for a moment, brought unexpectedly strong relief and assurance.

By September, window visits were permitted. She’d sit by the patio window of her apartment. She was confused about why she could only talk to her son on the telephone when he was just a few feet away. And why did he have to wear that mask?

And that same time, a chance for the 20th time, to vote in a presidential election. Next to devotion to family, few values or lessons were more important for her to pass to her children. It was the foundation of civic engagement and community involvement. This time, instead of the solitary experience in a voting booth, her son witnessed the vote.

The scene was repeated thousands of times last fall in the election that made history -- not only for the challenges the pandemic presented but for the determination of record numbers of voters to make sure they participated in democracy’s most sacred ritual.

A month into the new year, there was the late-night fall in her apartment. Her leg was covered in blood. The gash in her knee was deep. Were there other injuries? Broken bones?

But there would be no children dashing over to see how mom was doing, to be with the care staff at the facility, at the hospital emergency room or meeting with doctors after the surgery.

But that didn’t block people from pouring out unparalleled concern, accessibility and empathy. Through the night of that Saturday into the earliest hours of that Sunday, caregivers and medical professionals called when they promised and immediately responded when contacted. As busy as the doctors at the UNC hospitals in Hillsborough and Chapel Hill were, when they talked to her son, it was as if they had no other duty to attend to. They gave their full attention, always polite and kind. Never rushed.

The deep knee gash did require some minor surgery and several days rehabilitation stay at the assisted living facility’s medical center.

But today, she’s back in her apartment. But not alone. While the pandemic remains, she and her fellow residents – as well as much of the staff – have had their two doses of vaccine. Children remain out of town.

But she is not celebrating her birthday today alone. There’s no big party, but there is cake, there’s noisemakers, there’s music and there are friends not too far away.

After a year that didn’t offer much to remember but will never be forgotten: Happy 98th birthday Mom!

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