MICHAEL CALI NATIONAL COMMERCIAL DIRECTOR AT OOH!MEDIA
C
OVID-19 has presented me – and no doubt many others – with the greatest paradox of our lives: liberation and limitation at exactly the same point in time. I am in the very fortunate position that I can work from home and I have enjoyed it immensely. That’s not to say it’s all been smooth sailing – hardly! - but it has been incredibly rewarding. Gone are the days where there is a mad rush to get in the car by 7am, drop one kid to daycare and the other to school by 7:15am so I can try and dodge some of the traffic (who was I even kidding?) and get to the office in North Sydney by 8am. Mornings are more leisurely now, but still chaotic, and there is no rush to effectively push the kids out of the car while it’s still rolling just to maintain some momentum on my way to work. Afternoons are also pleasant. Previously, I was rarely home in time to pick my kids up. Now, I consciously carve out time to walk through the park to collect them from daycare or school. We chat and play on the way home. We enjoy each other’s company.
I know this change in the way we live will likely provide me – and many others - with mental health challenges in the weeks and months ahead. It is robbing us of more time to appreciate our loved ones as they come to the end of their lives. It is preventing us from displays of affection that are so normal, and so needed, in times of loss. So, to me, coronavirus has resulted in the cruellest of contradictions, providing us with both positives and negatives in the way we go about every aspect of our lives which ultimately causes differing impacts on our mental health. I am sure I am not the only person who feels like this. To my dad, who has always been extremely practical, the fact that the price of petrol is so low but you can’t go anywhere is the real travesty in all of this. You see, it’s liberating and limiting, all at the same time.
I know this change in the way we work has and will continue to provide me with mental health benefits. It has allowed me more time to appreciate my kids as they grow. However, coronavirus has presented someone like me who thrives on personal interaction and misses daily coffees with workmates even greater challenges. Restricting movement has been a necessary but heartbreaking exercise for many people and their families. Until late 2019, my parents and I had been practicing social distancing for a few years before it was even a thing. The ‘why’ still matters, but not as much as it once did. To some degree, we were all just stubborn (Italians, it’s genetic). Then in early April, my dad was diagnosed with cancer. They have given him “about three months”. I’ve seen him and spent time with him. But I haven’t been able to hug him or give him a kiss (Italians, it’s genetic). While he makes jokes about death as he compiles lists of who gets what tools from his garage, I know that deep down he is wondering how people will celebrate (not mourn) him, when the time comes. What will happen to the ‘big party’ he’s been mandating for years? More importantly, what happens to my mum, when the nearest shoulder to cry on has to be at least 1.5 metres away at all times?
Since writing this story my dad, Tony, passed away on 30 May. By the end, we’d kissed and we’d hugged. He was surrounded by my mum, sister and I when he passed, exactly as he wanted. An ease in restrictions from 1 June meant attendees at funerals increased from 20 to 50 people. His “party” will be held in the months ahead when restrictions ease further.
