Be grateful, but never say ‘only’ about those we have lost

Life is precious. Yes, that’s something of a cliche, in the sense that we’ve all seen the phrase. There’s a definite touch of sentimentality about it.

But it’s also a point that needs strong emphasis right now, both in terms of what we’ve been through in the last six weeks and what is hopefully to come, soon.

There are words and phrases I really don’t want to see used in our discussion of those we’ve lost to the ongoing coronavirus pandemic. ‘‘Only’’ is the first.

The idea that the deaths of 21 people – the number we had lost to Covid-19 as of Friday – could be prefaced by that word is both dismissive of their value as members of our society, and grossly insensitive to their families, who for the most part have not had the opportunity to be with them at the end of their lives.

Yes, I know as well as anyone that most of those victims have been of an advanced age, and had significant ‘‘co-morbidities’’.

Several were dementia patients.

It’s possible, and I say this with the greatest respect, that some of them may have died this year without Covid-19. But if that had been the case, at least their families would have had the chance to be at their bedsides.

I wasn’t there when my dad died, nearly 19 years ago, having struggled with Alzheimer’s for the best part of a decade. I’d moved to New Zealand the year before – taking a small window of opportunity that soon closed.

I was there two days later. Dad had taken a sudden turn and gone mercifully quickly, but I remember Mum describing those final hours, how she had sat with him and told him on behalf of each of his children, spread far and wide, how much we all loved him. I’m greatly comforted by that knowledge.

And I’m forever grateful that at least I was able to be at his funeral, along with all my siblings, and deliver a eulogy we’d all contributed to, parts of which had been circulating in my head for some time as it became clear Dad wasn’t going to be with us much longer.

I grieve for those who have lost loved ones anywhere around the world due to the pandemic, and been unable to see them, or at least bid them farewell surrounded by friends and family.

I didn’t know any of those who have died in New Zealand, but I know more than half of them died within 10 kilometres of where I’m sitting right now. That’s a sobering thought.

In the same vein, I don’t ever again want to see our death toll referred to as ‘‘laughably small’’, as it was this week by the flip-flopping

Mike Hosking. The word ‘‘laughable’’ is defined as ‘‘so ludicrous as to be amusing’’. Who’s laughing about the deaths of 21 Kiwis?

His choice in this context was ludicrously insensitive. Someone that experienced really should know better.

It’s natural that, this far into lockdown, many people are starting to get tetchy, and that is bringing out some irritability.

Perhaps we can think with deep gratitude about the fact that we haven’t lost many more New Zealanders thus far in this pandemic – looking at the shocking figures from around the world – while at the same time honouring those we have.

There’s a question doing the rounds on social media at the moment, put out by TVNZ, I believe, about the one action people are most grateful they took, ‘‘with the benefit of a couple of months of hindsight’’, to prepare for this pandemic.

Most responses I’ve seen have gone much further back. ‘‘Being born in New Zealand,’’ is one I’ve seen a couple of times. Taking the same liberties, mine was unquestionably migrating here.

Making that move after 34 years in South Africa, one of the things that has always resonated with me is how New Zealand, generally, seems to treat death with a greater degree of gravity than I remember back in the republic. This is a sweeping statement, I know; a personal impression.

Perhaps it’s the two degrees of separation scenario, or our relative size, but preventable deaths here seem to get a so much stronger media focus, because there are proportionally far fewer of them.

By the time I moved here in 2001, murders in South Africa had become sadly unremarkable, with some barely covered, except as part of a grim overall statistic. Road fatalities too.

In New Zealand, every murder is covered in great detail, and every fatal recorded in as much detail as possible. That’s one privilege of living in a society like this one.

As heinous as they were, I am grateful for the sensitive way the massacres at two mosques here in Christchurch were covered by the New Zealand media. No doubt that’s partly because it was unprecedented, but it was gratifying nonetheless.

This pandemic is a multi-faceted problem and it’s right that in a robust democracy, questions are being asked and the responses debated.

Hopefully something we can all agree on, though, is that 21 deaths is 21 too many.

I don’t ever again want to see our death toll referred to as ‘laughably small’, as it was this week by the flip-flopping Mike Hosking.