A (covid) death in the family

India has been getting from "bad to worse" in the ongoing diary of a global pandemic.

Yesterday we heard that my uncle in Ahmadabad had "been tested positive". Shortly followed by the words please pray. 

When hearing this you hope that he will be on the stats of "mild" and "with little impact".

My uncle was a good man. My most memorable time with him was about 20 years ago when I stayed for about 2-3 weeks for my cousin's wedding. He was a great fun. I recall enjoying a whiskey in a 'dry state' with him and his best friend. We both liked our whiskeys. I also loved going around Ahmadabad on the back of his scooter.

His next 24 hours were to be his last. One that reduces his entire life, his very essence, all those memories to a growing statistic.

It's was hard to hear that when he was eventually in hospital with all the worry and with his weakened heart he was being sent away home once they knew it was covid. He was asked to leave. Whilst they were in a hospital, they were not 'a covid hospital'. They were scared. Instead of a place of healing it became a place of sanctioning an oncoming 'timing-out' of my uncle's life in bureaucracy. The clock was ticking down as they sent him away. The one saving grace, or perhaps a way to justify their expulsion of him, was the sending him away with a canister of oxygen. Tick 

It was hard to hear that the specialist '108 Ambulance' - the only way to get to these specialist covid  hospitals was unresponsive. Tock.

Many people, from around the world too, were trying the hotline. It was not working. Trying time and time and time and time again. Tick

What alternatives were there. One was even trying an 'Ambulance on Wheels' service. Tock

Another came in the form of looking for other people to help. This was hard as it was now the early hours. Everything was shut. It was harder still when someone was eventually found to help and said I'll be there in 30 minutes. It was a glimmer of hope. Tick

In the mean time the oxygen canister had run out. Tock

When the ambulance eventually came it was too late. Uncle had passed.

It was hard to come to grips that this pandemic had taken my uncle away. Until now it hasn't hit home with a death. Today it has.

Remembering him with fondness and grateful to have had those memories. Most important to me is that he is at peace and I believe in a wonderful place. 

He was buried today barely 24 hours since that whatsapp message.

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“My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going.’”

‭‭John‬ ‭14:2-4