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In April, my family received news that my mother鈥檚 friend passed away from COVID-19. We were overcome with grief鈥攅specially because we were still grieving another recent death. Our last memory of her is watching the EMTs carry her to the ambulance outside of her house as we waved goodbye. We all feared the worst but were hopeful that that goodbye wave would eventually turn into a welcome back gesture. It didn鈥檛. 

In the wake of the coronavirus pandemic, loss and grief are two themes that transcend age, race, religion, and location. The U.S. alone has reported more than and counting. Because of shelter-in-place and social distancing mandates, many have lost loved ones without the opportunity to properly say goodbye. Public gatherings, including funerals, are limited to 10 people or less. These restrictions make it difficult to complete burial rituals and funeral practices, especially in the Muslim community. 

Imagine not being able to pray on a loved one. It鈥檚 double the grief.

Muslims adhere to a burial process that incorporates religious and community elements. After the body is released from the hospital, it is ceremoniously washed. This is a crucial step, but because officials prohibit the touching and washing of bodies because of virus transmission, Muslims are implementing another method called tayammum, a dry purification process where sand is used instead of water: 鈥淚nstead of washing the body with water, we would use dry dirt from the earth to rub on them while they鈥檙e clothed, so we鈥檙e not touching the body directly,鈥� says Fuad Mohamed, the imam at the Muslim American Society of White Center in Seattle.

Typically, after the body is purified, it is wrapped in a white cloth, placed in a coffin and transported to a mosque for the funeral prayer. But because of current circumstances, this step is skipped and the body is taken directly to the grave. There, 10 people can stand 6 feet apart and pray on the body. This is called Salat al-Janazah, the funeral prayer.

Ismail's lonely funeral:
Relatives keep two metres apart for social distancing at burial of Britain's youngest coronavirus victim, 13, as mother and six siblings watch online because two have virus symptoms

Ismail's mother and six siblings watched his funeral on a live-stream

— 馃敶Mohammad Mohammad (@MohammadMohaaa)

If a person is hospitalized for COVID-19, family members are usually not allowed to visit to prevent spreading the disease. It gets even more complicated if the person dies and the burial process starts without the family.

The words of an imam, prayers mixed with tears, and quiet sniffles in a crowded mosque is usually what a Muslim funeral sounds like. Funerals represent a transitional act for the deceased to be put to rest, and, for many, the process itself is an opportunity to say goodbye and an important step in the grieving process.  

鈥淚magine not being able to pray on a loved one. It鈥檚 double the grief. The grief of losing somebody, and the grief of not being able to be there in their last moments,鈥� Imam Mohamed says. 

Besides the shift in burial practices, the grieving process in the Muslim community is also changing. It鈥檚 customary for Muslims to convene at the family鈥檚 house and bring food and water. Many will stay for hours to provide comfort and support for the grieving family however they can. Now, we can鈥檛 do that. 鈥淭he community is losing the opportunity to be there for one another,鈥� Imam Mohamed says.

Beyond helping our communities grieve, our funerals serve as a reminder that death is part of worship.

My mother and our community are mourning our friend鈥檚 death from afar and sending condolences through the phone. Still, my mother is struggling with the reality of not saying goodbye properly. 

鈥淚t鈥檚 still not registering in my mind that my friend is gone. I would鈥檝e liked to be there in her last moments, go to her funeral, say goodbye. I can鈥檛 even be there for her kids and visit them and comfort them. This virus is unforgiving, and I hate it,鈥� my mother shared with me in Somali. 

She grieved her own mother鈥檚 loss a couple of years ago. Knowing her mother received a proper goodbye, surrounded by loved ones, helped her cope. 鈥淣ot being physically there hurts differently,鈥� she told me. Beyond helping our communities grieve, our funerals serve as a reminder that death is part of worship. Muslims believe that death signifies the end of this life and the transition to the next one. 

Similar to other social distancing accommodation methods used for work and social interactions, virtual support is how many are showing up for loved ones right now: texting, calling, video chatting, and stopping by their house while maintaining 6 feet of distance.鈥淚 think the best thing to do is to go back to our family homes, if you don鈥檛 already live with them. So even if the people from the outside are unable to help us during a crisis, then maybe your parents and siblings can help you through this,鈥� Imam Mohamed suggests. 

The coronavirus outbreak has unleashed a collective sense of grief, whether we mourn a loved one or the life we had planned for ourselves. The Muslim community is feeling this, compounded with the loss of our death care practices. 

Trying to grieve amid the instability and barriers around traditions has been challenging. I feel myself constantly reaching to give my emotions some space to breathe. But I鈥檓 finding comfort in the Arabic word Tawakkul, an Islamic concept that loosely translates to perfectly relying on God. It鈥檚 practiced in times of uncertainty or when things feel so out of our control. My faith has gotten me through many strenuous times before, and aligning myself spiritually is how I鈥檓 finding some peace.