How to travel home for a viewing

Safer at home, hon. But where's home?

Welcome to Not a Doctor. I’m Melody Schreiber, a journalist and the editor of What We Didn’t Expect.

Earlier this week, I went out in public for the first time in nearly three months. Aside from walks around our neighborhood and one drive-by birthday party, I haven’t left the house — not even to go grocery shopping. (I’ve been very, very lucky in that regard.)

But on Tuesday I got behind the wheel and drove home to say to goodbye to my baby brother. Here’s what it was like to travel by car, and to go to a socially distanced viewing.

🌡 🌡 🌡

Long-distance driving

Home, for me, is 100 miles east. It took about two hours each way. The roads were remarkably clear, even for a Tuesday at 11 a.m. The only slowdowns I had along the way had to do with minor road construction.

Digital road signs read “Safer at home, hon. Wear a mask, save lives.” It was bizarre to read them even as I got further from my own home, toward the place I grew up. Which one was home? And was anywhere safe?

The Bay Bridge had no tolls; the booths were removed for two lanes, and the rest of the booths were covered in plastic. Somehow, that astounded me; I’ve never seen the tolls closed before. But it makes sense, and it was a relief to know I wouldn’t have to interact with an attendant if the E-Z Pass wasn’t working.

Photo: Carlos Lacruz

Once I turned onto the back roads, I felt very calm. The route was so familiar, and the trees were so vibrant and green, reaching overhead to meet above the road. It felt like they were hugging me.

I didn’t stop anywhere along the way there or back. Luckily, I didn’t need to get gas. I worry both about picking up germs and about leaving my own; my county has some of the highest rates of the coronavirus in the state.

I packed a lunch and ate in my car on the way. I also brought a ton of water (okay, La Croix).

I also packed:

• a bottle of water (not for drinking) and soap to wash my hands

• hand sanitizer

• a change of clothes

• a towel, in case I decided to hug my mom or if I needed to sit on the ground

• a purse (remember those?) with my keys and wallet

• Lysol wipes

• alcohol wipes for my phone and keys

• an extra face mask just in case

• toilet paper and tissues

• plastic bags, to store dirty clothes (and for any other emergencies; honestly, plastic bags are kind of great?)

I didn’t, um, hear the call of nature during the trip. But if I travel with the kiddo, we’ll bring a little training potty.

There was some other stuff I threw in my bag that I didn’t end up using. Honestly, I’ve packed less for actual overnight trips in the past. But I was feeling extremely anxious, so it helped to know I had everything I needed.

My anxiety about leaving the house was pretty high, but I think a big part of it was all of the emotions I was feeling, directed toward shapeless fears about the pandemic.

If I’d had to fly or stay overnight, I wouldn’t have gone. Too many risks for my kiddo and myself, not to mention everyone I would have encountered. But because I could drive, I went, with precautions.

Note: Before driving back, I changed clothes. When I got back home, I went straight to the shower.

🌡 🌡 🌡

Viewing from a distance

The viewing itself was really difficult. That’s the nature of viewings, I suppose. But I can talk about the logistics, if you’re curious; if not, feel free to skip this part.

My brother was inside the largest room of the funeral chapel; it was normally used for viewings and funerals, and probably could have held a hundred or more people. The room was almost entirely empty the whole time. My mom and my sister went in with me (while keeping a distance).

The rest of the time, we all waited outside, on the sidewalk in front of the chapel. Very small groups of people (no more than 10) would go in and then come back out.

I wore a mask and kept a distance the entire time. If I could do it again — and I suppose I will, for his service — I would wear glasses instead of contacts, both to give my eyes a tiny bit of protection and because my eyes got pretty dry from the crying.

The hardest part was feeling terrible that I couldn’t hug my parents and my brothers and sisters while they cried. But they said they understood. “You have to do whatever it takes to protect your family,” my brother said firmly.

Whenever I wanted to hug someone, I would wrap my arms around myself and they would do the same. Or I would ask someone from their household to hug them for me, if they weren’t already.

Honestly, although it was hard and weird, it was also kind of amazing to be with my entire family. Because my family is really big, it was only the third time I remember all of us gathering in the same place (the other two times were 2001 and 2018). It was the last time we’ll all be together.

It’s been a hard couple of months for all of us, and seeing my family — even if I couldn’t hold them — was such a balm for my soul. I hope I can see them all again soon, mask free, and we’ll sit and talk and cry and laugh together. I’m filling my heart with that hope.