Stolen

The day that I lost you was the most excruciating days and moments of my entire life. I never saw it coming and I think what hurts more, is neither did you. I remember right before Christmas you tested positive for Covid. I was in Tennessee when I received the phone call from mom letting me know. At the time, you were doing okay. There weren’t any known or obvious complications that could be seen or heard. One of the first things I asked you was how your breathing was. In true Jim Weiss fashion, you mumbled “My breathing is fine!”. I remember thinking you were going to be just that...” fine”, I was a little scared if I’m being honest, however the information I was being given by both you and mom, provided me with some reassurance that everything was going to be okay. I wish to God, everything was okay, and this never happened, every single day I wish this.

December 28th, 2021, mom called me to tell me you were being admitted into the hospital due to breathing difficulties and severe pain in your head and back. My heart sank. I was in Maryland at the time, just after Christmas with Jimmy’s family. The moment I got that phone call, my life started to change right in front of my eyes. You hated the doctors and would avoid going to them at all costs, if you could. You never complained about aches and pains, you worked through it all, always. That morning you asked mom to bring you to the emergency room, you asked, you didn’t need to be told. Everything I ever feared the most was swarming my thoughts; I couldn’t shut them off. I wanted to believe so badly what everyone around me was telling me, that you were going to be okay, but my heart knew differently.

Covid will forever play a massive role in my life, like so many others. For me, it brought me the darkest, most painful, heartbreaking experiences and memories that I now have to live with for the rest of my life. To say I hate covid would be an understatement, for it took my life as I knew it right out from under my feet within just five days. Probably one of the worst aspects to this pandemic is the protocols put into place within the hospitals all around the world. Visitors, no matter who they were, weren’t allowed inside. You had to walk into that hospital alone, scared, in pain and knowing you, pissed off you even had to be there. Mom wasn’t allowed in, your wife, the love of your life of 35 years wasn’t allowed inside that hospital with you. It didn’t matter if she tested negative 20 times over, it didn’t matter if she wore a hazmat suit, it didn’t matter. They refused all visitors. This made it so I was in this limbo like state for those four to five days, I didn’t know what I was doing, what I could do or should do. Everything in me wanted to get on the next flight and go straight to you, be with you. I desperately wanted to just see your face, hold your hand and just tell you how much you were loved, how strong you are, how much I still needed you, how much we all still needed you. I know there isn’t anything to back me up on this, but I swear if just one person was allowed in there with you, it could have made a difference. I’ve seen the power of in person support and strength. I’ve been others, patients from my past, I’ve been their support and strength when they didn’t have enough of their own, I’ve seen what it can do. You deserved that, more than anything, at the very least you deserved that chance.

Every day that passed was the longest, hardest but fastest days of my life. I stared at my phone, waiting for something, anything, updating me. I knew you couldn’t breathe well, I knew you were on high flow oxygen, so I didn’t call you, but I texted you every single day. December 28th and 29th were the only days you were able to respond to my texts, after that I never heard from you again. I knew why, I knew you were struggling, I knew you fighting and so I kept texting you every single morning and night. I told you I loved you, I missed you, I begged you to fight, to hold on. I told you everything I would have told you if I was sitting right next to you, even though I wasn’t getting any more responses back. My hope was that although you may have been too weak to respond, you were able to at least read them. At the time, that gave me some peace.

The night of January 1st was when everything changed for the worst. I was on and off the phone with the nurses trying to get anything out of them while still trying to maintain empathy for them, respect and gratitude for them, but it was getting harder with every passing hour. I couldn’t understand why I was being told they could only speak to one person; they were too busy to talk to multiple people etc. If the protocol wasn’t in place to keep us out, then I would understand, however to me, if you’re going to ban family from their sick loved ones, the very least you could do is talk to them, tell them what they need to know and just answer their questions. I remember the last time I spoke with a nurse she was trying to reassure me that you were okay. I asked her if you could breathe and she replied, “If he can’t breathe then he wouldn’t be on this floor, he would be in the ICU”. That day you reached out for the last time to the outside, to mom, begging for help. You were crying, you said you couldn’t breathe, and you were all alone, that no one was checking on you and you were just being left in your room alone. You asked for a patient advocate. This was the most pivotable moment within those five days. Mom flew to the hospital, she called me and told me she was getting in no matter what she had to do. My heart was racing, I wanted to bust in that place as much as the next person, but I knew, I knew it wasn’t going to help you right in that moment, it would deter attention you so desperately needed further away from you. Eventually, mom broke down and pulled over. She knew she wasn’t going to make it inside to you. That day you were having a massive panic attack from literally drowning in your own body. It was your body’s natural response to react in panic, as would anyone else in your situation I would assume. You needed help to stop the hyperventilating, but despite our best efforts to get you that help by calling the nurses to get the doctor, they chose not to listen that night and ignored our pleads. By morning, the new shift nurse came, and she also chose to ignore our best efforts and chose to wait for the doctor to make his rounds, knowing that wasn’t going to be till much later in the day. You didn’t receive any medication for relief until 3pm on January 2nd. You suffered that entire night and you suffered alone. That will forever haunt me, because it should have never happened. Even if you couldn’t be given medication to help calm you down, you should have never been alone. Ever. That night, you were moved to the ICU and placed on the ventilator.

By this time, I was already packing my bags and running around like a crazy person trying to figure out what the hell I was doing, what I was taking, packing, was I packing for just myself? The kids? Was I going to drive the 7 hours home to New York or was I going to find a flight? I was so heartbroken and angry I could barely put one foot in front of the other, let alone pack a bag for myself and two small kids. My heart was pounding outside my chest the entire time, sweating. Then, Jimmy (my brother) called. He said this was it, that him and mom were heading to the ICU right now to say goodbye to you. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I couldn’t believe this was happening, this was truly happening. I was losing you, the first man I ever loved with my whole entire heart and soul, and the first man to ever love me with his entire being. I remember falling to my knees, half-dressed on the phone. There was nothing I could do at that very moment. I was too far away to get to you. This wasn’t supposed to happen, not like this, not this fast. A hellish reality came over me as I realized I was going to have to say goodbye to you via facetime, while Jimmy and mom were there with you. In disbelief but with no other options I sat on facetime. I watched mom and jimmy get suited up to go into your room. My heart was no longer in my chest it felt, I wasn’t inside my own body at that point. I watched my brother say his goodbyes, hug and talk to you even though you were intubated and on the ventilator. I watched mom lay her body across yours and say her goodbyes, to the love of her life of 35 years. I did all of this from my phone because I wasn’t allowed to be there the entire time you were admitted. The ridiculous, cruel protocols prevented me from being able to be there. I was so angry, so incredibly angry. Mom placed the phone up to you, I told you I loved you, how much I wanted and needed you to not go, to stay and fight this. I begged you to fight this, to not let go. Thankfully, my husband was booking my flight home by myself already. This wasn’t going to be the way I said goodbye to you, it couldn’t be. I had to get to you, and I had to get there fast.

The soonest and quickest flight for me to get to you was through BWI, in Maryland. We packed up the kids and drove 3 hours to the airport so that I would get to you by the night. I remember those 3 hours in the car being some of the most numbing feelings and emotions. I couldn’t stop crying. I didn’t stop praying. But I knew that I was on my way to say goodbye for good. The next few hours in the process of getting to you were excruciating. Something I will never forget, as much as I wish I could. As much as I have tried. I can’t, and never will forget those few hours. The drive, the walking into the airport by myself feeling like I couldn’t breathe with my mask on and immediately thinking of you and how you must have felt. Again, I thought a million times, how is this happening? How? Why? None of it made any sense. What the hell happened. Once I boarded my flight, I closed my eyes during takeoff, once we reached the highest point, I looked out the window and I prayed one more time. I remember thinking that maybe, if I was this high up then I would be closer to God, and he would hear me better. I begged for you to not be taken, I prayed harder than I ever have in my entire life. Aunt Susie picked me up, your sister, from the airport in New York. We immediately drove to the hospital. I called the ICU ahead of my arrival to let them know I was going to be there any minute and to direct me on where I was supposed to enter, being that it was after visiting hours. It was so cold walking over to the emergency room entrance, but I just wanted to stay there in my mind, I didn’t want to walk inside that building because I knew it was going to be the last time, I ever saw you. Security met us at the door and pointed us to the elevator that was going to take us to the ICU. Once we got up on the floor, it was empty, of course. Not a single person was in sight, I was told someone would be out to bring me to you, so I waited in the cold, empty waiting room.

A man came walking out, asked me my name and told me to follow him back to you. I turned the corner and had no idea that the rooms in the ICU were all glass. You were the first room directly in front of my path, the first room I saw when I turned that corner. The feelings I felt in that moment are something that I cannot put into words, I’ve tried so many times and nothing I say will ever equate to the actual feelings and emotions that overcame me when I saw you for the first time, laying there behind that glass door. The nurse told me he was going to grab some chairs so that we could sit outside your room. Instantly I felt rage, anger, shock. I didn’t come here to sit behind a glass room, I watched my brother and mom both say goodbye to you inside your room, with you. I was going to do the same, I deserved that. It should have never been this way to begin with. I was not allowed inside for those four days while you were awake and alert, alive, but I was now allowed inside to watch you die, to say goodbye. It didn’t make any sense to me, it still doesn’t, and it never will. It's something that ruined me, ruined mom and my brother. I told the nurse I was going in, he said he had to ask the charge nurse if it was okay. As far as I was concerned, I was going in your room with or without permission. The nurse came back and said, “She would like to know if you’re fully vaccinated”, it took every fiber in my being to not deck that nurse and everyone else in my surroundings. I looked right in his eyes and said yes, that I was fully vaccinated and then I pointed to you, behind that glass door hooked up to every machine possible that was keeping you alive, and I cried out, “So was he. So was that man, but here we are. So, suit me up”. He understood, and I know he was only doing his job, but I didn’t have anything left in me to care about anything else.

Two gowns, a hair net, two pairs of gloves, shoe coverings, three masks, including a N95, and a face shield was what I had to put on just go inside your room. The masks were so tight I couldn’t breathe out of my nose, there was no airway going through. I was crying so hard, my nose was running and there was nothing I could do because of all the PPE I had to have on, I couldn’t get to my face. Everything just dripped down my face and out of my nose, into my mouth and it was out of my control. Everything about this was inhumane, it wasn’t natural and mentally, it destroyed me. I was with you finally though, nothing else mattered. Your face, your hands, your hair, everything about you I just soaked in. I held your hand the entire time, running my fingers up and down yours. I asked the nurse if I felt any movement, would it be you or would it just be a reflex. The nurse informed me that you were paralyzed, and only alive because of the machines. He explained if they were to take you off the machines, you wouldn’t be here long after. You were already gone. The nurse told me I had ten minutes to say goodbye. Ten minutes. How was I supposed to say goodbye to the best man I have ever known in just ten minutes? Why did it get to this point where I was left with nothing but ten minutes with you, intubated and not even there? Again, none of it made any sense. I thanked you for everything you ever did for me, for giving me life, for giving me the life I had, for loving me the way you loved me. I told you how proud of you I was, so proud. I don’t think there’s anyone else in this world that I’m prouder of you, then you. You were a true, genuinely kindhearted man. You worked so unbelievably hard for your family our entire life, and never complained. You didn’t deserve this. At first, I begged you to stay, pleaded with you to not give up, miracles happen, I knew you were gone, I knew the machines were keeping you alive, but I just prayed and begged for you to come out of this. To not leave me, not leave mom and jimmy. Quickly, I realized I was being selfish. As much as I would give anything in this world for you to still be here, I knew you were ready to go. You fought like hell; you did all you could do. You, yourself asked to be placed on the ventilator even though the doctors were trying everything they could. You knew you fought your fight, and you couldn’t go on like that any longer. You were tired, so tired. So, with my heart and soul shattered beneath me, I held your hand and your face and told you to go on. That it was okay to let go and go home. I remember asking you before I left if you could come visit me, in some way, somehow. Just anything to let me know you were still with me. I couldn’t even kiss you goodbye, so I laid across your body and told you one last time how much I loved you and how sorry I was this was happening to you. I was so sorry it had to be you.

Letting go of your hand was the hardest part. I let go a few times and went right back and tightly intertwined my fingers with yours. I didn’t want to let go, ever. I left that hospital a shell of the person I was beforehand. I was and will never be the same again. The images of you laying there, will never leave my mind. I wish more than anything I could have seen your bright beautiful blue eyes, your face and the way it would wrinkle when you smiled. I hate that covid stole you from my life at such a young age, for the both of us. There is so much about this I will never understand, why you? How did a virus just take my dad in a matter of days? Why on earth would protocols be put into place that prohibit family from being able to be with their loved ones, essentially stealing any time they could have had left with them. I could have sat with you, even if you couldn’t talk. I could have seen you, see me and know that you heard everything I was saying. But that was also stolen from us, the dignity of seeing you live, but allowing the agony of watching you die for just ten minutes. The next day, January 3rd, 2022, you were gone.

Covid stole you from our family, without any care or remorse. It has ruined so many lives, not just ours, so many others, but I truly never thought we would have been one of the ones to lose someone to this virus. This virus is so complicated and talked about for such a long time yet the details, the raw real heartbreak of the worst end is never really spoken about. It's not okay what was done, how things were set into place, like protocols etc. It's not okay that so many had to suffer alone, die alone. Sadly, I don’t think the aftermath effects on the family will ever fully be acknowledged as they should. What it does to someone’s mental health, their heart. I will forever be broken by you being taken the way you were, and a part of me went with you. You were my dad, the best man I ever knew. So much of me wants to just dwell and be angry but I know that isn’t what you would have wanted. So, I chose to stand up and face my new reality. Figure out what comes next, what makes sense in this world without you in it. Mom is going to be okay, we will take care of her for the rest of her life, as you worked so hard to do for 35 years. Our kids will remember you for everything great that you were, for all the memories you blessed them with. Forever, you will live on through our kids and our family. Your legacy will not be forgotten or diminished.

I'll love you always and I will miss you forever.