Death has plundered an already barren year for my work family, and the global pandemic has deepened our grief.
Martin Johnson, dean of the Manship School of Mass Communication at Louisiana State University, died overnight Monday-Tuesday. He had worked into Monday evening. He was only 50.
My last interaction with Martin occurred nine days earlier. LSU had told me to quarantine after contact tracing determined I’d been close for 15 minutes or longer to someone with Covid-19. Martin then called – on a Sunday. Our two-minute conversation warmed me.
We need his cheerful human touch now. But death has taken our soother-in-chief.
And pandemic precautions prevent us, his aching work family, from connecting meaningfully to console one another.
We’re not uniquely burdened, of course. Covid-19 has upended so much, and most distressingly by stealing our grieving rituals, those rites and social blessings that acknowledge and ease grief.
So, as for many others in this ever grimmer gash called 2020, we mourn without the emotional salve of touch or embrace. We hurt without the benediction brought by communal tears. We grieve apart.
OMG, Jeff. So sorry.
Thank you, Steve.
It’s difficult to lose anyone but all the more hurtful when they are encouragers. Aren’t we grateful that God allowed us to be in their life’s wake.
For sure. You nailed it.
Thank you, Jeff, for your thoughts–very much needed at this time by the entire LSU family. We all, faculty, staff, students, alumni, can take comfort in knowing that Martin’s legacy will live on.