This is the mask I wore
by Shimi Cohen
a few words about Funeral during corona days
Grandma's dead ...", that's what I heard from the other end of the phone in the early morning.
My heart was filled with sadness but also a bit of joy, because "Dada" (Gracia) died of old age and not some bloody illness and was 99 years old.
In these days of Corona, my parents have not seen me in over four weeks.
Dad is not in a healthy way and I had the feeling that he didn't understand what the fuss was about and couldn't say goodbye to his mother. During the funeral, he didn't utter a word.
My mom, the angel of the family looked at us from a distance, can't hug, can't kiss.
"Up to 20 people," that's what the Ministry of Health said, a small funeral is limited to just the immediate family, the people closest to us each and every one.
And Canty, Grandma's devoted therapist, kept calling her "Mother" and the only one of us who managed to shed a tear and cry bitterly.
Such a journey of silence for me in the cemetery, a bleak sky, and my world being pelted behind the lens. This is the mask I wore.
I was amazed at what the Corona made us, we almost dispersed without saying hello, we lost all contact and warmth between the people.
And now it hurts me, and even though I'm the most atheist in the world, not sitting in the "seven" custom, these are the moments when they mention the dead, the good things, the memories.
And I have wonderful memories of you, grandma.
Rest in peace, Grandma, this is the moment when you can embrace Grandpa, whom you love so much.
Shimi, your admiring grandson.
Taking photos straight from the camera.
Kodak Professional Tri-X 400 Black and White Negative Film
