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The last time Pamela Addison saw her husband alive, on April 3, she managed to say “I love you” to him before the paramedics loaded him into the ambulance.
Martin Addison, 44, speech therapist, could not answer. He was struggling to breathe as he tried to recover from Covid-19 at home two weeks after being exposed at the hospital where he performed swallowing assessments on patients. As she held her 6-month-old son, Graeme, and her 2-year-old daughter, Elsie, and watched the ambulance leave, she continued to hope that her husband, in good health and in his prime, would recover. quickly. After all, reports at the time suggested that the victims of the pandemic were mostly older people or people with pre-existing conditions.
He died 26 days later.
Addison was left alone with their two young children, having to isolate herself at her home in Waldwick, New Jersey, physically cut off from friends and family. Being diabetic, she had to be careful to protect herself to make sure she would be there for her children. It seemed to Addison that Martin, despite his sacrifice as a frontline healthcare worker, had become another statistic in the growing Covid-19 obituary crush.
“All of my friends had husbands, they were healthy. I only knew me, ”said Addison, who turned 37 on Monday. “I thought, ‘Oh my God, no one else will understand what I’m going through’ – and this was a whole other part of my grief. “
Months later, Addison found a way to share her grief and honor her husband’s memory.
Inspired by a sympathy card she received from another widow, an unknown woman whose husband died under similar circumstances, Addison, a reading teacher, decided to support others like them. Addison founded a Facebook support group, Young Widows and Widowers of Covid-19, for others who are struggling as single parents in the isolation brought about by the pandemic.
Less than two months after launching on November 7, the group has 84 members (and more) from across the country, as well as the UK.
It’s a start: There are plans for possible Zoom meetings and, once a vaccine is readily available, for in-person gatherings as well.
“A lot of young women lose their husbands because of it, and they think they’re lonely,” Addison said. “We have to come together and support each other because Covid-19 is like a different kind of death.”
This fateful sympathy card came from Kristina Scorpo, 33, a postpartum nurse and mother of two young sons, who is now a Facebook group administrator. After losing her husband, Frank, a police officer in Paterson, New Jersey, to the virus on Easter Sunday, another police widow sent her a card to say she was not alone in her grief. The sender also wrote that one day Scorpo would return the gesture by sending a card to another woman in pain.
The day came sooner than expected after Scorpo read Martin Addison’s story on a GoFundMe page for his family posted to social media by a mutual friend. Her own grief was fresh, but Scorpo was two weeks ahead of Addison to meet the unique challenges of raising her sons, Francesco, now 5, and Santino, now 15 months, as a single mother in the era of social distancing.
“I read that she had a 2 year old and a new 5 month old when her husband passed away, and I had a 4.5 year old and a 6 month old so I was like ‘her. is the maid I’m going to send the card to, “said Scorpo,” because we were in exactly the same boat. We had lost our husbands for the exact same thing.
“And I’m glad I did.”
Addison and Scorpo were no longer alone.
Even though they haven’t yet met in person, the two have become close friends, regularly texting and talking on the phone to support each other. They talk about the day their children can finally meet, having a connection in their shared loss that cannot be understood by their other young friends.
“We didn’t anticipate this,” Scorpo said. “We didn’t plan to be widowed at 36 or 33. We had no plans to raise our children without our partners with whom we have seen our lives and with whom we have seen a future.
But with Addison, “it was like we knew exactly what the other was going to say, because we’ve been through all the same things, and it’s really great that life has brought us together,” she said. declared.
Realizing she was not alone, Addison wrote a blog post detailing her story, which was published by New Jersey news site NJ.com in October. When other women recently widowed by Covid-19 commented on the post, she decided to start the Facebook group where they could share their stories.
This shared connection is essential. The unique stressors of the pandemic are unprecedented in our lives – the potential for disease and death, economic concerns, isolation, distance learning, and political chaos among them – and decades of research show that support groups can be beneficial for those suffering from a common trauma. said psychologist Dana Rose Garfin.
“Everyone is trying to help and no one knows what to say,” said Garfin, assistant assistant professor at the Sue & Bill Gross School of Nursing at the University of California at Irvine. “But when other people have had the same experience, there is a level of empathy and understanding that can be deeply heartwarming.”
Emma Charlesworth, 39, found a lifeline with the women across the Atlantic Ocean in Kent, England. The pain is universal: Her husband, Stuart, a 45-year-old finance officer, died on April 19 after a three-week battle with Covid-19 in hospital, suddenly leaving her a single mother to their 10-year-old daughter. , Rebekah.
“The group is so important to me because despite the geographical distance it is heartwarming to speak with people who understand,” said Charlesworth. “Who understands the pain and suffering of losing a spouse to Covid-19.
“It’s a club and a bonding opportunity that neither of us asked for or wanted to join but is so grateful to have.”
One of the recent additions to the group is Diana Ordonez, 34, a widow from New Jersey who lost her husband, Juan, on April 11, five days before their daughter, Mia, was 5.
Juan Ordonez, an information security analyst at UPS, fell ill on March 13, days even before a lockout in New Jersey. In the first days after her death, Diana received visits from her pastor and family, who like her had caught Covid-19 but recovered, as well as virtual support from her parents and brothers and sisters from other states.
“When I became a widow, you didn’t hear of almost any young widows, mostly because all of the reported cases were either seniors or people with underlying illnesses,” said Ordonez, product manager. and distributor. “I remember I wanted to talk to someone, because no one else really understands this loss, because it was so unique and different.”
Over the weeks and months, Ordonez struggled to work virtually and teach at home her daughter, who was struggling to cope with a loss that was already difficult enough for adults.
“For the first few months, Mia wasn’t going to sleep alone in her bed, because dad left in the middle of the night ‘to the hospital while she was asleep” and didn’t come back, “Ordonez said. “So she was afraid that mom would die in the middle of the night too.
“For me it was hard, because the night was my time to try to manage and be alone and cry or try to lean on other people,” she said.
The group helped share the emotional burden, but it was not always easy for her to participate.
“At some level, it’s also a bit of a trigger,” Ordonez said. “It’s been eight months, and you feel like ‘OK, I’m healing.’ But then you have to be mentally ready to read something because it can bring you back to where you were. “
Still, Ordonez said she was grateful for joining the Young Widows and Widowers of Covid-19 Facebook group just before the holidays – a time that had special meaning for her and Juan. Nine years ago, he proposed to her on Christmas Eve; the anniversary of their first date is January 2.
Addison said the weeks had been difficult for many members, with many encouraging each other to honor their late spouses by keeping traditions alive and ensuring continuity for their children.
“We are all in different stages of grieving. Some people have just lost their husbands, when they feel hopeless, as if there will be no more happiness or joy,” Addison said. “And then there are others. Several of us are in the April group.
“I feel we can help them,” she said. “Even though they’re not where I am now, I can support them. And it heals me too.
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