A Time of Waiting

by Henry Fersko-Weiss

It certainly is an understatement to say that the past eight months have been extremely difficult for all of us. This pandemic has hollowed out our social lives and for many of us our work lives as well. I know of too many people who have suffered the loss of a job or the loss of income. Thankfully I have known very few who have become ill with COVID-19, and even fewer who have died. But each night my wife and I having been watching the stories on nightly news of everyday people who have died from the illness, our eyes welling up, our hearts pained. Each night I have been reminded that we are in an extended time of waiting. Waiting for the illness to recede or for a vaccine to become widely available.

COVID-19 is only part of the devastating story of the past eight months. The other pandemic we have faced is the rampant racism in this country, the unseemly deaths of black men and women at the hands of unfettered police officers, and the outsized impact of COVID-19 on Black, Brown, and Indigenous communities.

And still we wait.

Even though we now have the prospect of a vaccine—of multiple vaccines—becoming available by sometime in the middle of next year, we must face months with the virus surging all around us. More devastating is the wait for social justice, for an end to all forms of bigotry. That time of waiting, will be much, much longer.

This is supposed to be a time of thanksgiving, a time of celebration. Yes, we can celebrate the apparent beginning of the end of the scourge we have been facing. Yes, the exposure of deep racial inequity and health care inequity in this country seems to be encouraging a powerful urgency around change. Yes, at an individual level each of us can find things to celebrate in our lives. But we still seem to be trapped in this time of waiting.

So, what do we do as we wait? How can we turn this time into something that honors the lives lost, the suffering we have witnessed? As doulas, these questions seem so familiar. Our clients have faced these same questions as they faced a terminal illness. Our role has been to encourage a deep exploration of meaning for the dying person and their legacy for those who live beyond them. As you sit around the Thanksgiving table with just a few people and share virtually with others, perhaps offering what you are thankful for, I want to suggest that each person also talk about how they can deepen the sense of meaning in their life, how they can build a more purposeful legacy that matches the values they try to live by.

This is a practice we have adopted for many years at our Thanksgiving table, at the continued insistence of my wife Stephanie. There may be some eye-rolling when we start, but by the time we’re done we all feel a deeper bond with each other and a greater sense of purpose. This year, one of the things I will talk about, is my inner struggle with white privilege, my commitment to expose racism wherever I encounter it, and being thankful that I am waking up to the injustices I have blindly been complicit in.

A time of waiting doesn’t have to be empty or unproductive. Just as waiting to die doesn’t have to be focused on anticipating the last breaths. Let’s all use the wait to grow clearer about who we are, to educate ourselves, to become more conscious about our legacies, and to inspire others to do the same. That will make us doulas to life.