A strange kind of grief

5 March 2021

Change can bring heartache and hardship, but some things never change

Words Faye Michelson

Last year, in the midst of the Melbourne lockdown, I encountered a strange kind of grief. It was different to the sorrow I felt for those so terribly impacted by the virus, here and overseas. This grief was wrapped up in shock, a feeling of acute loss as I – someone who had always felt safe – realised that safety was not a given. For me, that understanding didn’t come after seeing confronting television images of mobile morgues outside New York hospitals or reading daily statistics about the escalating numbers of COVID infections. It came in a suburban shopping centre.

During the first lockdown, when we were allowed to travel around our suburbs (who knew that soon we would be permitted to travel only five kilometres from home?), I put on my mask and drove to a nearby shopping centre to go to a department store that had remained open.

I’ll admit to a feeling of enjoyment as I drove into the multi-level carpark for the first time in many weeks. After only shopping for essentials at the supermarket, it was a relief to experience a return to some kind of normal life. I soon discovered, though, that there wasn’t much ‘normal’ about it.

This big shopping centre, usually buzzing with people, was almost empty, with the few shoppers there masked and anonymous like me. The wide walkways were lined with shut-up shops displaying A4-sized signs saying, “Closed due to COVID-19”. It was eerie and echoey, and I decided I didn’t really want to be there. I went into the department store and wandered half-heartedly around a few aisles before walking back to my car through the food court. And that’s when this strange grief enveloped me.

The domed glass ceiling over the food court flooded the expansive area with light. But where there should have been hundreds of people eating, drinking, talking and laughing, chairs were stacked in rows and tables were turned upside down on each other. Yellow tape encircled the area, as if it were a crime scene, with intermittent signs declaring the area off limits. A few traders offered take-away food and drinks to a handful of customers and somehow that made the empty, silent area more poignant. Weeks ago, just days before the lockdown, I’d met a friend there for lunch, surrounded by crowds of people doing the same thing. I was surprised to feel tears prick the back of my eyes as I looked at this, the heart of the shopping centre, that had simply stopped.

Life as we know it can change at any time. It can be because of a global pandemic, a natural disaster, war, political upheaval or economic downturn. It can be because of a loved one’s death, illness, divorce or job loss. Change can bring heartbreak and hardship. It happens now, and it will happen in the future just as surely as it happened in the past.

The person who wrote Psalm 94 in the Bible was well-acquainted with hard times. He gives us his insight into dealing with life’s hard times by placing his faith in the one who is unchanging – God. “Lord, when doubts fill my mind and my heart is in turmoil quiet me and give me renewed hope,” (verse 19). The psalmist’s words are as encouraging today as they were when he wrote them thousands of years ago. Some things, thank God, never change.