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He was gone in 5 days. We said goodbye to him through a phone screen, with loved ones outside his room looking through a glass. No one next to him. No one held his hand. He was alone.

My husband was infected with coronavirus in April and he was in the hospital fighting for his life. Unfortunately he lost the battle after 3 months in the hospital, but during that time I lived in my own flesh as the nurses and doctors fought to save him and I saw how my husband clung to life. He was connected to a ventilator for 22 days and managed to get out of the induced coma and they placed a tracheotomy, he was connected to dialysis for 24 hours and during that time I saw how all the nurses and doctors tried to keep him alive day by day. Unfortunately, he lost the battle because of all the evil that covid does to internal organs. It is so painful to see how day by day your husband is losing the battle and to see how the nurses worked like industrious little birds all together trying to save his life. Thank you for creating this commemorative day for those who died from covid and to thank those who are at the forefront of the pandemic.Only those of us who live in our own flesh know the struggle that takes place day by day and night after night. My son and I also had covid along with my husband but we managed to survive.

This here is my grandpa. His name is Trine Martinez. He was a beloved husband, father, grandfather and great-grandfather. At only 77 years young, he lost his three week battle to Covid-19 in the hospital, on April 21st. My family’s life will never be the same without him. He was an amazing man and would help out anyone from the kindness of his heart. He will be deeply missed. We love you grandpa and you will remain in our hearts forever. 01/14/1977- 04/21/2020.

Marlon. His name means Little Warlike One, Mighty, Eagle, Falcon. He was born in difficult circumstances. At an early age, he became an adult. As a soldier, serving for the Philippine Navy, he had to go where his orders took him. Sometimes that meant surviving in physically harsh conditions. He was a leader, independent and mission minded, while he focused his life centered around the family. When he embraced his faith being a Christian, he served under many church ministries to continue God’s work. It wasn’t easy, but he helped people in dire spiritual need. He always believed that he would be part of a greater mission- one that will help many for God. In his last weeks, he fought his greatest battle, the infamous virus that has turned the world upside down, creating ripples of political, social, and economic turmoil. Our dad fought the virus for a total of two months. That is eight weeks. Six of them were in the ICU. Fifty-six days fighting on his hospital bed to heal. I look back to my text messages, and all I can see are the messages of orders and commands from him to get hand sanitizer, disinfectants, alcohol, wipes, Tylenol, and delivered home cooked food. He was trying to get better in quarantine so he could go back to work. He was also trying to help my mom and sister who were sick, healing in self quarantine. I had a personal conviction that he needed to be treated right away in the hospital, but, we still didn’t know how covid affects people, so we relied on the leaders of our government to issue the right protocol of when testing can be done. We listened, believed, and trusted that they know what they are talking about and what to do. He should have gotten tested right away, but there were many conditions. In this time of the pandemic, you need to be in a serious state of sickness before you can take a test. He should have been hospitalized before the fevers, but one needed to be in a dire state before they can enter. How the leaders of America have responded to the virus, has been our family’s utmost disappointment. The nation’s orders to the medical field were not properly executed. It was like, every hospital, every family is on their own to fend for themselves. In the early weeks, I remember we silently battled with our dad as we knew we would be judged. Terrible times. In these weeks, we supported our dad in spirit. There were many limitations, but there were even more graces. We could not be with him physically to help him fight, but God’s grace is so good that he was sent to a top of the line research hospital. They received him with welcome in the Adult Heart Surgical Unit of Advocate Christ Hospital in Oaklawn, IL. They put him on the needed machines to help him breathe. Moved by what they did to help dad, we brought doughnuts and food every Sunday to the medical team and prayed in front of the hospital. We could not speak to him at every moment. Doctors were working around the clock to assess him and other patient cases. We missed him. Then, God’s grace intervened when we were given the go ahead to Skype safely with him, we were happy to be able to cheer him on with our words and pray for him. There was a moment when he was awake with his eyes open, he struggled with his breathing tube as though wanting to speak to us. We felt the limitation, but utter love poured out on him. We missed his voice. In his last days, when my mom wanted to come to the hospital to visit dad, (She worked as a Medical Frontliner in another hospital) she wanted to suit up to comfort him, but we were cautioned not to because of the riots and protests. They were on lock down. Instead, we decided to pray. So we went, planning to social distance in masks heading to our aunt’s home where they were leading a prayer vigil. It was critical. I remember taking my mom and brother there, as protesters stopped the roads in front of the police station. I waited patiently in support of their cause, but when it was my turn at the front line of their blockade, they ordered me several times to turn around. A line was drawn in this protest. I rolled my window down and spoke strongly to let me pass so we could pray to help our dad who was critically declining. I literally had to show my cellphone to have them see my dad on his hospital bed. They believed and let us through. Later that night, we found out that the fires rose from the protests. Everything was on lock down. This went on for two days. Peace was scarce. The roads on our father’s last day were perfect. No troubles, no limitations experienced on that day. My sister wanted to drive as I sat next to mom on the passenger’s seat, with our family. I saw her bracing herself in strength. The hospital let us Skype overnight to see and be with our dad on his last night, until morning. It helped us to be strong. I thanked God for giving us this grace to be fully present in the moment, without needless worry. Upon arrival at the hospital, the staff took us upstairs as we met with his doctors and nurses. They told us that our dad fought with such spirit. They could not however, save dad. He was experiencing multi-organ failure. We were learning that the virus is not a lung disease, but that of a cardiovascular one that at the last stages affects the blood. It starts with the lungs. He left his vices of smoking and drinking a long time ago, but since our dad heavily used cigarettes in his prime, the virus resided there longer due to remnants of nicotine in his lungs. We felt that when he was able to open his eyes and his numbers were getting better, he recovered from the virus, but his toleration of all the medical treatments had weakened. It was his liver and kidneys, and intestinal track that was not strong enough and it gave. He was literally receiving blood and plasma every day. The medical team has been like an extended personal family to us. Everyday, when we called for his updates, we took down the names of the nurses working with our Dad and put them and all the doctors in daily prayer. We asked God to give them divine protection, new wisdom, creativity, and strength to continue their work. Our hearts grew to love them as they washed, fed, and checked his vitals. God intervened again. We were granted permission to be in the same room as him. It makes me so teary and grateful of this kind courtesy they allowed. At this point in spiritually fighting the virus with him all these weeks, with our family- our mom and sister that had the necessary antibodies, and the rest of us boosted immunity, we were unafraid. Many people were praying. God was with us in the moment. We all suited up safely in medical PPE (Protective Personal Equipment) to witness his final moments. From hair nets, masks, face shields, jackets, gloves. I felt so honored and proud to wear their gear. My younger siblings and aunt went in first and prayed for him. He was still on the ventilators. Beautiful prayers were last spoken by them as I felt the room lifted up. I witnessed everything in the corner. It was my turn, I paused briefly at the door. I barely recognized the shell of the man left in the bed, his face sunken and hollow and contorted. His eyes slightly open in a weak haze. His mouth open, with lips dry, skin toughened as his face in fighting. His hair grew out white as snow. I placed my hand on his head ever so gently and caressed his hair. I placed my palm on his heart. Life was leaving his body. We understood his battle. Bitter-sweetness was felt when the doctors turned off the machines to let him breathe on his own. Mom was by his side, holding his left hand. The nurses put an injection of pain medication so that he wouldn’t feel a thing. Our father took his last raspy breaths at 1:30 pm of June 2, 2020 on his hospital bed. It was finished. The medical staff of the unit gathered around to see. Everyone was touched by his fight and the moment was an honorable one… ‘ To read the rest please, go to https://bit.ly/3lfScYW. Thank you

My father was shy of his 70th birthday. He fell ill on March 14th and soon after became gravely ill and was hospitalized on March 20th. For an entire month, the doctors worked fiercely to save his life. After his tracheotomy his health took a turn for the worse. He battled an infection, low blood pressure, and was suffering from ARDS. It was a roller coaster everyday with good and bad reports, so bad we were deciding his last moments at times. On April 20th, my father’s health deteriorated. We made the decision as a family to not continue more medications since is body was no longer receiving it. We were told his body couldn’t sustain resuscitation and would just bring more pain. As hard as it was, we had to say goodbye. The most heartbreaking of all was not able to be with him in his last moments of life. Over a video screen we had to tell him our goodbyes. We couldn’t hold his hand or whisper in his ear and let him know what an amazing father he was to his 4 children and a beloved husband to our mother. We each shared what he meant to us and how much we loved him. We played his favorite songs as he slowly drifted away. We saw my father take his last breath on April 20th. His name was Estanislao Rodriguez, a Mexican immigrant who was grateful to become an American and sacrificed everything for his family. We love you dad.

My mom passed away from COVID August 1,2020 3 days after her husband passed from COVID July 29,2020 Herny Porter they just celebrated their 10 year anniversary July 3, 2020 and both went to the hospital July 6 and was there until they passed.

We were so careful as our two daughter and my husband were high risk for covid. Shane was waiting to have surgery so he hardly ever left the house. He was the first to get it. We thought it allergies. 3 days later with his oxygen at 75 I said goodbye on the sidewalk outside the ER as the nurse wheeled him away. The next day he way in the ICU with covid pneumonia in both lungs. He was placed on Bi-pap. Covid starting attacking his heart. No matter what they gave him his lungs and heart were not getting better. On Monday the 20th I had a conversation with the Dr about how this was going to be a long process and he would probably be there a month but they felt he would recover. 3 hrs later I got the worst call ever that he was gone. I never got to talk to him that day, my daughters never got to say goodbye. There are no words to accurately explain how horrible this experience was.

My mother began feeling ill on Friday, March 27th. By Sunday, she was struggling to breathe and the paramedics were called. She was not running a fever so they left. They were called again that evening and she was running a fever and gasping for air. We were rushed by ambulance to the nearest hospital and were turned away in the parking lot because the ICU was already full. She was in respiratory distress and on full oxygen. I had to basically almost get myself arrested to get anyone to listen to me -the admissions people would not even listen to the paramedics. Finally a security guard who was ready to escort me off the property checked inside the ambulance and told the admissions staff they had to admit her. Less than 15 minutes later, the ER doc called me and told me if I wanted to give her any chance at all, I had to allow her to be incubated. I agreed. They stabilized her and had her life flighted from South Georgia to the Northeast Georgia Medical Center in Gainesville, 5 hours away from where we live. I immediately drove up there and checked myself into a nearby hotel and the only communication I could have regarding her was through nurses. They were as gracious and accommodating as they could be given the circumstances. For the next 18 days, I was alone, worried and scared not only for my mom but for myself. I knew I had been exposed not only from my mom but both paramedics that I drove to the hospital with were positive at the time but did not know it. This was early on and the only way you could get tested if you were asymptomatic was from a doctor referral. My doctor refused to allow me to get tested even though the hospital where my mom was said that it was no problem to test me there, but they were not accepting any new patients that were not critical unless by referral. I had no idea if I was going to get sick and if I did, would I wind up in the hospital too? If that happened, who would be able to check in and be my mom’s health advocate? Not knowing if I was contagious, I did not leave that hotel room for 18 days. I did door dash for food and my husband drove up a few times to bring me fresh clothes. I heard from my mom’s nurses twice a day – some days they made a little progress with weaning her off the ventilator and some days there was no change. At two weeks on the ventilator, they were becoming, in their words, “gravely concerned.” My mom was always fiercely independent – she would never have wanted to live on life support. I communicated that with the staff. They were not ready to give up on her and were doing everything they could. The hospital put in place an advocate program for families of covid patients for better communication. I was very grateful and wish that had been in place the whole time I was there. My advocate kept in close communication. She even took time to speak to my brother so that I did not have to explain to him what was happening and decisions that were going to have to be made. Mom always took care of everything for us growing up, she was one of those “super moms”. I guess on some level maybe she wanted to spare me having to make those difficult decisions although I was prepared to make them as I had done for my dad two years ago. On the morning of April 15th, my healthcare advocate called and said she was suddenly declining quickly and she raced up to my mom’s room so that I could maybe speak to her one last time but it was too late, she was already gone. I was with my dad for 4 days in hospice and I was there at the very end for him. There was closure for me. I think one of the most difficult parts of this for me has been the lack of closure. On the way to the hospital, I did hold her hand the entire time and told her I loved her. I hope that is the last thing she remembered. She was an amazing lady. She lost her left arm in an accident when she was a child but she never let that stop her from doing anything she wanted to do. She drove a stick shift car, showed horses and was an excellent swimmer. She over came two back surgeries, two rotator cuff surgeries, and survived a stroke a year ago and totally recovered. She deserved so much better than to have died alone, surrounded by strangers. I could not have a funeral for her, she was old fashioned and would have wanted one. Losing her this way has been very difficult for me. I miss you everyday mom, you were my hero.